Land of England
by TamiTheOxyMoron
Summary: Catherine of Aragon was an exiled disgrace. Overthrown by an younger, more beautiful lady, Anne Boleyn. When she had began to lose hope, a miracle happens. Katherine, once Queen of England is pregnant with the King's son. Journey through the life of Arthur and watch the drama unfold.
1. Miracles

Before you read this, I want to give you all a heads up that I'm not the perfect writer. Like everyone else I make mistakes. If I do make a grammar mistake, it would be great if you would message me and let me know so I can immediately fix it before it causes a lot of misperception. If you have a problem with what I'm writing or you don't like it, deal with it! This is my fanfiction story. Leave or suck it up.

Thank you for reading and enjoy the story!

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Katherine of Aragon sat motionless in her dumpy wooden stool in the vast Kimbolton Castle. Being an exiled Queen was a pitiless entity, especially when no one longer referred her as Queen. Her husband and the King of England had banished her from Court and gave her the title "Dowager Princess of Wales" to recognize her position as his brother's widow. King Henry had dismissed the very few ladies in waiting who were of Spanish Descent as her punishment for not approving of the wicked divorce. Katherine spent hours deplorable and crying for her only daughter, Mary's cursed and perturbing future. Her sweet darling girl had been declared an illegitimate bastard and was styled "The Lady Mary" rather than Princess, her true inherited title. And it was all thanks to the very existence of that wretched woman, Anne Boleyn.

Anne Boleyn has stolen her life from her while claiming to sire a son and heir for the king, furthering the Tudor line. In god's eyes the marriage was unlawful in every way but that scarcely stopped Henry from marrying the wretched whore. Today Katherine heard the news that Anne Boleyn had been proclaimed Queen of England, the position many noblewoman craved. Her poor health began decline and she knew that death would soon be upon her. Illness befell her and recently it had increased to a rate where Katherine could hardly stand. _Anne has won. Anne Boleym, that evil harlot had won_ Katherine thought bitterly. Abruptly an overwhelming pain swept through her body and the ache in her skull refused to halt while bitterly swelling.

"Maria, come quick!" cried Katherine, cradling her brunet head in hopes to ease the pain.

Immediately an old, hazed looking woman emerged and rushed toward the Queens side.

"Your majesty, what is wrong?" asked the worried woman, her wrinkles creased in concern.

Katherine smiled. Maria was the only one who still referred to her as 'your majesty' the majority had now refused to, calling her marriage to the king invalid because of her incapability in siring a son and heir for the English Kingdom.

"My time has come, Maria. I feel my life slipping away from me" Katherine sighed and with the help of her loyal lady, reached her large canopy bed.

"Your majesty, all you have to do is ask and I'll do anything for you" Maria began to cry, in fear of her Queens life and grasped her Sovereigns petite, frail hands.

"Every marrow when I wake my head feels like its splitting in two. I feel that death would be soon upon me" murmured Katherine, lying down on the white cushions and closing her tired eyes.

"Please, don't say that" cried Maria, refusing to believe what she has heard. "I'll get the physician"

Before Katherine could utter a single no, Maria burst from the room and yelled throughout the halls to quickly summon a doctor for the Queen.

Katherine sighed and closed her eyes in slumber. Her dreams were quiet and peaceful. She had dreamt of her young son with dark brown bobbing curls, running toward her and laughing joyously as he fell onto the soft, lush grass. Her older daughter Mary was also giggling as she tackled the younger boy. Katherine smiled at the scene and to her this was a perfect heaven. Katherine felt relief and in concord peace. All was perfect, but dreams were always bound to end. Unexpectedly, a strong hand pulled her into a sitting position, forcing her awake from her paradise. Katherine blinked in despair and observed her familiar surroundings. In front of her stood a wrinkly, aged man wearing dark black robes, the old man approached her and curtseyed. She quickly observed that it was Maria who was holding her into a sitting position. _How long have I slept for? _Wondered Katherine and felt a great disappointment at being awoken during an enjoyable and pleasing dream.

"My lady, please let me examine you" croaked the old man, reaching toward her.

Katherine felt an urge to protest to the Doctor and just beg him to let her go in peace but she remained silent and merely nodded, wondering what King Henry's, her ex-husbands response to her death would be and hoped every fiber in his body would regret sending her away in shame and exile.

The physician who she soon learned was Doctor Johnson was the small town's only doctor. The old man called Doctor Johnson began to examine her, his calm expression never wavering until he observed her round, swelling belly. His eyes widened and asked her calmly

"When was the last time you bled?"

Katherine blinked at the absurd question and replied sullenly "Months ago… I'm getting older and barren so I no longer have…" suddenly she stopped talking and it immediately hit her like a wave pool.

_There's no way… _thought Katherine …_Impossible_

"My lady, you're pregnant" he said bluntly. That very moment, her loyal servant Maria gasped and her eyes began to run in blissful tears.

"God has finally answered our prayers" she cried, crossing herself feebly and gazing up at the ceiling as if it was the very image of God.

"I don't believe it! I haven't been able to conceive for years. It's…" Katherine wavered and shook her head in consternation and disbelief.

"A miracle" Doctor Johnson finished the sentence for her. "God creates miracles, milady."

Katherine mind was jumbled with excitement and paranoia. She hadn't slept with her former husband, King Henry for months. The final time was during the time she had begged him to reconsider his hopes of marriage to that Witch, Boleyn. Henry had grown very angry and in his wrath, had forcefully taken her to humiliate the little dignity she had. That moment she had realized her loving, devoted Henry was gone and instead was replaced with a vile, angry man.

"You're six months pregnant, your husband must be very proud to receive the news" said Doctor Johnson, flashing a grandfatherly smile. Katherine gazed at Maria's uncomfortable expression and instantly realized that the town's doctor had not realized who she truly was and took comfort in knowing that the only one who knew of her pregnancy was her trusted friend and servant, Maria.

"I believe you to be 5 months in, my lady." The elderly doctor rummaged through his sack to further organize his instruments that he had not needed. "You must take precaution in your health; any small incident may harm your child fatally. I advise you stay in bed until further notice" The physician tipped his hat in a polite routine and retired from the chamber.

"Oh my lord" breathed Maria. "This is god's gift"

Katherine nodded and placed her hands on her swelling belly. That very instant Katherine felt like a fool for not noticing this sooner. She had been pregnant a healthy number of times to realize if she would be expecting. It was most likely due to her heavy grief that Katherine failed to notice the growing child inside her.

"Maria… what should I do?" Katherine asked, a complex emotion burning in her dark eyes.

"Everything will be fine" Maria murmured, kneeling at her Queen's bed side.

"Henry despises me and the Boleyn's won't take this lightly. They will take my child away! Son or not, they'll take my baby away" she cried, growing hysterical at the prospect of her little babe locked away in a tavern.

"Please, your majesty, don't contemplate too extreme" soothed Maria.

"Henry won't believe the child's his! I know him too well" Katherine shook her head in contempt.

"Your majesty, you need rest!" she comforted, in hopes sleep would ease her Queens mind.

Katherine wanted to protest but knew sleep was the out most importance at this point and as she closed her eyes a positive tingle crept through her body. At least for now there was hope for a brighter future. 

* * *

King Henry laughed loudly as the court fools commissioned with their hysterical acts. King Henry was content, beside him sat his beautiful wife Anne Boleyn who sparkled in her pale blue dress with her dark raven curls covering her virtually uncovered white breasts. His new wife was absolutely ravishing and a portion of the court seemed to agree as they eyed the new, beautiful Queen with love and curiosity but some with disdain, anger and hatred. Many were strong supporters of Katherine but tried to hide it considering many who openly supported Katherine were immediately banished from court and never seen again or sent to the tower. The pope had declared the marriage to Anne Boleyn invalid and evil, many Catholics silently agreed and also the majority of Europe. The way King Henry had disastrously thrown his wife, Katherine away was a tragedy and the Spanish hatred grew so strong for the King that King Henry had to send the majority of Spaniard descendants back to Spain. _"Where the filthy Spanish dogs belong"_ King Henry clearly said to his council.

"Anne" said Henry smiling at the dark beauty before him. "I would like to present you with a gift"

Anne Boleyn turned her attention to the King and beamed. "Your Majesty is generous" she purred, looking at the King behind her long dark eyelashes in a seductive tactic.

"Only to you Anne" respired Henry while looking at Anne's open breasts, he could hardly wait for the moment both of them to be alone.

"Kluwern!" Henry cried the name of his servant who quickly rushed to his side carrying a white, jeweled box in both hands. He curtseyed as he approached the Royal couple and handed the exquisite box to the beautiful maiden. Anne calmly took the chest in her small white palm and opened it, inside lay an incredibly large jeweled ruby necklace with a golden chain. It was exquisite and highly expensive; it was a reminder to Anne that she was doing a pleasing job in seducing the King and in so, becoming the most powerful woman in England, the Queen.

"Your majesty, your kindness is beyond me" flattered Anne Boleyn, entertaining the King.

"Anne… I told you please call my Henry" murmured Henry, teasingly playing with Anne's golden and silver rings on her slim fingers.

"I will" confirmed Anne Boleyn, welcoming at the man who gave her many joys "Tonight" she whispered in his ear so no one could hear.

Henry shivered at her seductive tone and radiated at the thought of spending the night with Anne. It would be a night to remember.

"Anne…" he breathed, staring at her seductive cherry red lips that looked deliciously tempting that moment. Henry inclined toward Anne's face to kiss her luscious mouth. As Henry leaned forward, a voice interrupted him. Henry turned and glared of the man who dared. He was disturbed by Lord Cromwell who was dressed in bellowing dark black robes with white ruffles peeking out of his neck piece and around his shoulder hung a large golden chain symbolizing him as a councilman.

"Your majesty" bowed Thomas Cromwell, interrupting the Royal couple.

Henry turned his attention to the lord and felt rage course through his body.

"What?" snapped King Henry, glowering at Thomas Cromwell. Cromwell gulped in realization he had displeased the king but continued with his speech

"I would like to express my congratulations on your marriage and the council would like to meet with you concerning issues with the… pope"

Anne Boleyn drew in a sharp breath and glared at Cromwell, did he have to remind everyone on such a beautiful day? She thought to herself disgustedly.

King Henry the 8th turned red in rage and hissed "HOW DARE YOU COMMAND ME?" Everyone in court immediately fell silent and gazed at the unfortunate man who managed to enrage the King.

"DOES THE COUNCIL SUMMON ME NOW? AM I NO LONGER KING?" roared his majesty, causing many noblemen in the opposite direction to flinch at his words. Cromwell eyes shone momentarily of fear but he hid it well behind his expressionless façade.

"Your majesty, no one would dare do something so dreadful to their only sovereign" replied Cromwell, easing his way through the complicated situation by complimenting the King.

The Tudor King grunted but otherwise heard Cromwell out as he ineffectively explained the dire request from his councilman. Henry snorted in defiance but knew that this was not an important assembly and it was his duty to attend. Henry irritably strode through the stoned corridors with Cromwell trailing behind him. He hated leaving Anne behind, oh how he craved her vibrant company in his daily life. As he caught sight of the familiar wooden framed doors, the frantic King stormed into the chamber and was greeted with the Councilman's befuddled expressions.

"I don't give an hundred bollocks what the fat Italian man says! He doesn't approve a second marriage then be it" yelled Henry to his advisors, a few nearby cowered at his heated tone. The King continued "I hardly need his approval for a second marriage; this realm of England is an Empire and should not have to answer to Rome's concepts."

"I fully agree with you, your majesty" bowed Thomas Boleyn. A few others voiced their agreements to the King, mostly afraid of the famous Tudor wrath if they hadn't or trying to weed themselves into the Kings good graces. Like the very famous, Earl of Wiltshire. The Earl of Wiltshire, Thomas Boleyn was a palpable suck-up to the king, he did everything in his power to please the King and had managed to succeed. So long were the days when he spent as a diplomat, Thomas Boleyn was an authoritative man in England and his success was all in gratitude to his eldest daughter, Anne Boleyn.

"This is an act against god" silently hissed John Fisher, Bishop of Rochester to his companion Sir Thomas More. "All of Europe will scorn England if this act proceeds"

Sir Thomas More shook his head, swaying the long dark greasy locks "There is nothing that can be done, the king has power most man can only dream of"

The deep-rooted, religious catholic refused to be swayed and crinkled his grey eyebrows in displeasure "This is going against the law of god! Divorce is improper in god's eyes"

Thomas More sighed and looked around the chamber to make note there were no sly ears hearing their treasonous conversation "We are nothing but insects to the words of a King. I am against this procedure as much as you are but there is nothing that can be done"

Bishop Fisher could only shake his head in defeat and rout "You are quite precise, Sir Thomas. We can only sit and watch as the scheme ensues"

That moment Thomas Howard, the prestigious Duke of Norfolk and sister to 'Elizabeth Boleyn nee Howard' advanced his opinion to the King on the pope's impolite refusal to such a delicate and important matter. King Henry impatiently nodded in agreement, straying his eyes through the chamber.

"For here henceforth, I reject the papal authority and brand myself the sole superiority to the Church of England" roared the Tudor King so all could hear.

There were loud murmurs at this phrase, most in agreement and the ones against the action refused to openly express their dislike to the procedure and instead stayed silent, contemplating the consequence.

"That is all, Gentleman. I now take my leave" King Henry turned and marched out of the chamber leaving his exuberant and jumbled councilman alone.

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The wife and Queen of King Henry the 8th sat leisurely in the velvet red cushions in her new, eccentric chamber. Anne Boleyn was envisioning a bright and joyous future as England's new sovereign. The very thought of her children sitting upon the English throne made her giddy. There were only a few steps away in becoming the most influential and powerful woman in England. No one could stop her, not even the wretch, Katherine. The woman was a hoary woman whose youth had long left her, the very thought of her still breathing made her squirm. Katherine was one of the few thorns at her side that could possible seize her dream to become a reality.

_If only she was dead…_

If Katherine no longer lived, her authority would not be questioned. Anne hated to admit that the Spanish bitch had many supporters but that didn't necessarily mean that she could out due Anne's control and influence to the King. Smirking, Anne took a sip of the grape red wine and mutely toasted to her antics. She had already been crowned as Queen of England and the next step was to provide Henry with an heir. Anne was so sure that her child would be a healthy male. She hardly thought of a different approach. Her sister, Mary had provided the King with a baby boy and she could easily do the same. Loud, thunderous stomps were heard in the corridors and Anne immediately recognized those of her Husband, Henry. Anne trailed her eyes away from the opening entry and gazed at canopy overhead her.

"Anne" Henry crooned in his husky voice.

"Henry" Anne called and faced the man that ladies of her status can only dream of having.

Henry lustily smirked and walked towards Anne's welcoming arms.

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Thank you for reading and please review!


	2. Determination

I wasn't sure if I should call the Queen, Katherine or Catherine. In Spain it's spelt was a K and in England with a C. In the last chapter I've often used the 'K'. I have finally decided to write it as 'Catherine'. Sorry for the confusion I've caused everyone in the last chapter!

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The residence of the exiled Queen was located in Cambridge shire, far west in England where not many noblemen could easily penetrate the castle walls or others to escape its ruthless hold. The lands surrounding the Castle were mostly marshlands and fen. While many thought Catherine despised her life and spent each day gnawing her nails in anxiety but the truth was far from it. Catherine was feeling absolutely and utterly blissful. Life felt weightless as if a mound of heavy bricks had been lifted off her exhausted shoulders. A couple months had passed since the meeting with Doctor Johnson who had pronounced her pregnant in front of the ashen faced Maria who spent days counting the birth day of her child. Catherine laughed at Maria's effort for her health to remain hale and hearty. Maria prepared vast quantities of food and stayed close to Catherine's side as if she were to receive an injury if a single pebble fell upon her. The woman was truly a good woman and the only one she could trust to help nurse and raise the babe budding inside her.

Catherine peered down at her round swelling belly. Her womb had reached a robust size and to be honest the very largest she ever had. Mary had been a tiny baby and her other children, god bless their souls, were an third smaller than the one growing inside her this very moment. This was truly god's gift for all her toil that she had gone through. Catherine often thought of her eldest daughter who had gone through a great deal after her banishment. The poor girl must be suffering at the tainted actions of her father. She knew that if her daughter, Mary knew of her pregnancy then maybe a glimmer of delight may arise for her. Unfortunately, The King had banned the mother and daughter from seeing each other or even communicating by letter. But that would never stop Catherine.

Catherine called forward a serving girl who immediately arose from her position at tending the fire and bowed slightly.

"Aye, milady?" she squawked, cradling her hands, caked in ashes.

"I would like to write a letter" she said modestly. These simple words were enough to get the young girl grasping a clean parchment, dark ink and a single writing utensil.

Holding the familiar smooth sheet of parchment paper, Catherine grabbed the plain black quill and began to write and compose. After feeling fully satisfied with the contents in the letter, Catherine sealed it and handed the dispatch to the serving girl.

"I will provide you money to travel in secrecy to Hertfordshire. If you successfully deliver this letter to Hudson House, I shall offer you enough pounds to buy a comfortable cottage in the country side" Catherine recalled King Henry mentioning in one of his letters that Mary had been sent to the Hudson house until she had learned to obey and not disapprove her father, the King. Anger fumed in Catherine at the thought of her precious Mary spending her days worrying and praying.

The dirty girl beamed at the prospect "I a'int gonna fail ye, milady!"

"I very much hope so" Catherine murmured, trailing her eyes away from the blissful girl. The plan was simply perfect. No one would suspect a young girl would be carrying a letter of much importance.

The young dirty girl clumsily bowed a second time and hurriedly exited from the chamber.

* * *

Soft rain drops pounded gently on the dye-stained window glass and created shadowed droplets on the cold cobbled floor of the miniature papal. A young brown-haired teen girl sat kneeling in the direction of a golden cross and large icons of the Virgin Mary. The young maiden remained kneeling even when the Spanish Ambassador, Eustace Chapuys entered through the small timber access. The old man sat in one of the wooden benches located at the back of the Church and patiently waited for the Lady to finish her prayer. The lady didn't seem to budge from her former position; it was clearly obvious she wasn't slightly bothered by the other figure. Finally, Ambassador Chapuys stepped forward and cleared his throat, signifying he had something of importance to say

"Lady Mary, the King asks a final time to sign the petition…"

"I will not…" Mary said stubbornly, immobile in her kneeling spot.

Chapuys sighed; he felt an overwhelming pity for the young girl. Her mother was exiled and she declared an illegitimate. King Henry had forbidden Mary to see her mother and therefore strained the only closest relationship the young girl now had.

"I'm sorry I could be of no help at this moment but this is the only way to redeem yourself with your father"

Mary stiffened at his words and gradually stood upright, still facing away from the Ambassador and gazing toward the golden cross.

"And be declared a Bastard?" Lady Mary murmured in a hushed voice.

Ambassador Chapuys stayed silent, contemplating his next words of reassurance, but Mary continued.

"I will be signing away my legitimacy and further saying my mother's marriage to my father was unclean because my mother was the widow of my uncle!" Mary turned to face Chapuys, wrath and anger running in her coffee brown eyes.

"I refuse to! Tell the King I reject to do his bidding"

"I fully agree with you, my lady. You hardly deserve this cruel fate bestowed upon you. Next time it won't be me enquiring about the petition, The King will most surely send the Duke of Norfolk to persuade you or another of his close servants" said Chapuys, his sorrow building for the young girl.

The deprived Lady Mary closed her eyes in weariness and stiffly shook her head, the brown curls bobbing up and down. "None will sway me from my true title. I'm a granddaughter of two powerful sovereigns. The bastards of Anne Boleyn will never have the same noble blood streaming in their veins like mine"

Ambassador Chapuys grinned at the wit and prideful nature of his lady and agreed with her. She was the only true Princess in England and no one would contradict that, except for the power hungry Boleyn's who have frequently sinned against god in their ambitions.

"Come, Lady Mary. It's time you retire"

Mary yearned to disagree and continue ranting about all the unfair treatments she had been receiving but she was also tired of shouting, protesting, crying, praying, begging… All she wanted was to run. Run far, far away to where her mother was. Mary sought to hide away in the country and never return to court. She could not bear the shame to return to court and be forced to serve the wretch witch, Anne Boleyn. Before her depression could fully intensify, Mary straightened her dark black gown and followed Ambassador Chapuys out of the chapel.

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	3. Terror of the Tower

Mounds of red and golden cloths adorned the aging stoned walls and soft animal furs covered the cold floors. Henry and his Queen, Anne, sat in opposite velvet cushioned arm chairs, drinking wine and eating wide ranges of rare dishes prepared only for the King and Queen. Anne peered at her husband with love and much devotion. She watched as he hungrily munched on his meal while casting side way glances towards her. Before any of the two could say anything to each other, a knock interrupted their thoughts.

"Come in" called Henry, while munching on a juicy red apple. A short man wearing black robes and a red badge was pinned on his chest symbolizing him as a royal messenger. The man bowed in the company of the two powerful sovereigns.

"Your majesties" the man cleared his throat "I was asked to pass on a message that the lady Mary still refuses to sign away her legitimacy and couldn't be persuaded by the Ambassador."

Henry felt rage seep through his body "Is that all?" He growled.

The messenger gulped and hastily added "The pope and King of Spain all agree that the Queen is not your wife and all the children she will carry will be bastards"

At this phrase, King Henry jumped to his feet and rushed over to the clearly frightened messenger and threw a hard blow onto his face. The unfortunate man stumbled and fell on his buttocks and cowered as Henry continued to throw punches and kicks towards the poor, battered man. Henry ceased his rampage at the sound of the messenger's jaw breaking and the sight of his bleeding nose.

"I don't want to receive any more messages about that old, jealous man who calls himself a pope!" The Tudor temper was so frightening that the messenger could do nothing but continue to apologize and beg for forgiveness.

"Get out" he roared. The scared man hastily retreated himself out of the chamber, stumbling on his two feet as he left. The violent King poured himself more wine and chugged the whole glass down his throat without a moment hesitation.

Queen Anne sighed and rested her petite hands onto his huge ones. "Spain and Italy wish to see England with no heir. They'd rather see it fall into ruins and have it destroyed by another civil war"

Anne's wise words soothed Henry away from his temper and eased his tantrum. Henry hadn't been born during the war of the roses, the famous war between two of the strongest English forces; the York's and Tudors. Both forces fought for the English throne and of course the Tudors won. As a child, Henry heard the horrific stories from his father, Henry the 7th. That very day he vowed such a tragic event would never happen during his reign as King.

"Then what's stopping us from giving them what they least want?" he asked huskily, gently nibbling on her earlobe. Anne's laughed and the sound of her giggles deeply aroused him. Henry moved forward and began undoing the many laces that strapped her bodice together. Anne gently pushed Henry away from herself causing him to get very frustrated and slightly irritated at her unwillingness.

"Henry… we need to deal with the Lady Mary" said Anne, piercing him with a serious look.

The King sighed "What do you propose? I have done all I could to coax her to sign her bastardy. She's as stubborn as her mother"

"Tell me Your Majesty, What do you usually do to someone who goes against your wishes?" Anne sarcastically asked him, twirling her black curl with her finger.

King Henry stayed silent, considering what Anne had just inquired of him. Suddenly he understood. "You're asking me to send my daughter to the Tower?"

"I'm not asking… I'm advising you. You're the King and your decisions matter more than anyone else's. If you don't do something about her behavior she would never learn her true place" Said Queen Anne.

Henry contemplated this idea it was a welcoming thought but the notion of his only daughter locked away was unpleasant. But Henry did agree that it could most possibly work. A disobedient daughter was no daughter at all. He needed to break her pride and selfishness for the crown that a woman could never gain.

"I will arrange her transfer tomorrow but for now…" Henry stepped forward and yanked Anne's corset off exposing her creamy white breasts. "You've been the only person in thoughts for the past weeks and today I need you more than ever"

* * *

Mary Tudor did all possible to take her mind off the Kings 'great matter'. She refused to think of the betrayal her father had condemned her in and spent her days occupying herself with foolish undertakings. She began fashioning a handkerchief by stitching red roses on the thin white cloth. Mary hoped to bestow the gift to her mother that is if she ever had a chance to see her again.

"Oh mama…" Mary whimpered finally losing her calm composure. Fat tears rolled down her rosy cheeks and sobs erupted in her throat. Her hands began to quiver and shake; she hadn't even noticed when the pin had pricked her finger until she looked down and caught sight of the ruby red blood on the pure white cloth.

Gasping, Mary immediately rushed to a basin full of water and dipped the cloth in the liquid, anticipating the blood to wash out but to no avail. The red was completely stained on the cloth. Her gift was completely ruined! Mary continued to weep harder. Life was just too difficult to bear. Depression began to cave in and her anger for the new Queen increased. Mary used to be a Princess, her father's pearl and pride. Now she nothing to him, all those years they had spent joyously together, were discarded as if they were nothing but mere waste. Mary was forced to admit she never truly knew her father.

A timid, quiet knock erupted on the wooden door. As quick as lightning, Mary stood up and hurriedly rubbed her wet cheeks and fixed the loose strands peeking out of her hair net. The door creaked and Mary turned to observe her unwanted visitor. She was quite shocked to see her handmaiden awkwardly standing at the entry way holding some sort of parchment paper.

"Milady, a young peasant gal had came by and had pestered me to deliver this letter to you" said her handmaiden.

Curiously, Mary grabbed hold of the parchment and immediately recognised the seal. After dismissing the servant, she hesitantly opened the letter. The King had forbidden the two from communicating and Mary was deeply shocked her mother would disobey the King. But she knew her mother wouldn't sit still and watch as her only child suffered. The young lady scanned the contents in the letter and gasped allowed as she read the most bizarre sentence. Mary stood and paced the room as she reread the letter.

'_Mama's pregnant!' _Mary thought, her heart beating hard against her chest. Relief filled the young girl and for the first time in weeks, she had felt strong. Her mother had written the child was the King's but he would never claim the child due to his marriage with Anne Boleyn.

'_Of course _Mary thought bitterly _that evil harlot still stood in the way'._

It was unbelievable to think her mother had become pregnant under the circumstances. A part of her would have deemed it impossible but her mother's words were most likely true. It was her mother's very own writing.

'_But how could it have happened?'_ She thought.

But right now it hardly mattered how her mother had managed to conceive. The major issue was that it was the King's child! It could also be his most wanted son. Mary couldn't understand why her mother did not want her to speak a word of her new found secret. This was the only chance to get back their fathers love and devotion. There were so many questions Mary wished to ask her mother at this very moment. Mary sat down by the window and gazed towards the cloudy skies. Clearing her thoughts was much difficult then she had thought. Her mind kept on bouncing back to the idea of having a sibling she could mentor and take absolute care of. She was forced out of her day dream at the sight of the Kings banners swaying through the wind. Mary stood up, alarmed and wondered if they had come to take her back to court. But there were more guards then needed. That was very peculiar. Unless…

'_They know about mother's letter! They've come to arrest me" _

The need to dispose of the letter was vibrant. Mary turned toward the fire hearth and threw the letter into the orange flames, not fully satisfied until the letters turned to nothing but cinders. A sharp knock came from the door and Mary turned into her innocent girl-like expression.

"Whatever is the matter?" she asked.

"It's the King's man. They've come for you, milady" gasped the same handmaiden who had delivered her the letter.

Reaching over to one of her jewelry boxes, Mary pulled out a jeweled bracelet and handed it to the young girl.

"If they ask, do not mention anything about the letter. Understand?" she said, peering right into the girls mossy green eyes.

She nodded feverishly, slipping the wristlet into her plain grey gowns pocket.

As Mary walked down the staircase, a dozen soldiers stood by the entrance preparing to meet her.

"What is this?" she cried, glaring daggers at the man standing before her.

"You are arrested for treason and disobeying the King!" said an unfamiliar voice. Mary turned her head and stood befuddled as she watched the wretched Thomas Boleyn approach her.

Regaining her composure, Mary sneered at the spiteful man who had not bothered to show respect for someone of higher status then him.

"And who presses charges?" she asked, her voice laced in venom.

"The King himself" replied Thomas Boleyn, looking very proud and haughty.

"I wish to speak to my father!" Mary declared, staying as calm as she possible could.

"He does not wish to speak with you" said Boleyn an smirk playing on his tanned face.

Those were enough words to get Mary striking the cocky man. But she refrained herself, remembering her mother who was currently lying pregnant. The silence given by Mary gave Thomas a chance to continue talking.

"You are to be sent to the tower" Thomas waited for the girl to reply but she continued to keep silent, her dark brown eyes an emotionless mask.

"But the King is generous. If you sign your illegitimacy and therefore giving away your right to the throne, King Henry and Queen Anne would surely forgive your transgressions"

Mary noted how he slowed down when he had said 'Queen Anne' as if mocking her.

"It's unfortunate that you shall find me hard to sway from my judgments. I am not a bastard and nor shall I ever be" Mary loudly proclaimed.

"Take her into custody" Boleyn told the armed man, clearly annoyed.

As the soldiers advanced, Mary didn't know if she should be glad that they had not discovered her mother's letter or terrified that she was being sent to the tower by her very one father.

* * *

Oh no! Mary is being sent to the tower!

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	4. Impossibilities Become True

Isolated within the deep, cobbled walls of the tower was disastrous. The place scared Mary beyond her wits. The very thought of how many tragedies that had befallen in one area was preposterous and sickening. Her accommodations were small but fair. Even though she had been raised in rich and comfort all her life, Mary wasn't a fool. There were rooms much worse in the tower then hers. She was lucky to have a fireplace in her tiny space and a comfortable leather chair in sit in. The bed in her cell was miniature compared to others she had slept in. It was small enough to fit her petite size but Mary was afraid she might roll off. The hard stoned floor certainly did not look pleasant to fall on. Countless man from her father's council have repeatedly entered her cell and begged her to sign the papers. They tried to convince her but all had failed. Her mother's pregnancy is what kept Mary standing tall and defying the false words of the privy men around her. There was nothing to do in seclusion except to think. And Mary often did. She thought of her mother and her upcoming new brother or sister. Mary often prayed that this baby would not end up stillborn like her other brothers and sisters.

Clasping her hands in prayer, Mary recited the biblical phrase "Father who art in heaven…"

* * *

Maria crinkled her nose as she breathed in dust and dirt. The maids were fanatically clearing and cleaning the corridors as supper approached. The Queen busied herself in the gardens, snipping away at roses and placing the flowers in crystal glass vases. Maria was glad to see her Queen in a much better mood then she had been months ago. Her belly had grown very large and it was unappealing to watch her work in such a delicate state.

"Please, your majesty" cried Maria for the fourth time "You'll only tire yourself out. It is of out most importance you rest"

Catherine shook her head, letting her brown locks fall on her healthy crimson cheeks. "You'll only tire yourself out if you keep on pestering me."

Maria huffed in defeat and forced herself to continue with her duties. Like usual she ran the castle, making sure all was organised and clean. She also had to make sure the servants were doing their proper, everyday work in their designated or assigned areas. Today everything seemed to go smoothly. The sun shone bright in the afternoon, creating a positive atmosphere in Kimbolton. But the joyful day had quickly evaporated when a messenger from the south had arrived with a letter in hand. Maria had hastily taken it and recognized the symbol representing the Privy Council of the King. Gulping, she wondered if it was the right choice to give it to her Lady. If it was of dire news then it would greatly affect her health.

"Maria" she heard Catherine call her. "Who's the letter from?"

'Too late' thought Maria 'She had already seen the messenger arrive'

"The privy council" she muttered, handing the letter over.

Catherine grasped the letter and carefully opened it. "Hopefully nothing too bad" said Catherine. But all letters sent by the Privy Council could be anything but good.

Maria eyed her lady as she read the contents. Suddenly she had dropped the letter and fell on her knees.

"My lady!" cried Maria, also dropping on her knees and wrapping her arms around the sobbing woman.

"M-my poor, poor girl" wept Catherine, her body shaking. "...Mary..."

Maria grimaced at the thought of what might've transpired. Quickly, she summoned two maids over and the two young girls helped Catherine to her feet. Maria picked up the letter and read the few lines that had been handwritten.

_"The privy council is displeased to inform you of your daughter, Mary Tudor, discretion's and treason against the King of England. She had numerously disobeyed the King's wishes and has been imprisoned in the Tower until further notice" _

* * *

Charles Brandon, 1st Duke of Suffolk, was the Kings most trusted friend and adviser until he had secretly married Princess Margaret, after her brief term as Queen of Portugal. Charles did not regret marrying her. She was Royalty and the best match he could ever make even though the wedding was secret and unlawful. He had hoped the King wouldn't go against the match. They were after all great friends and had both shared their ups and downs in court. It was a huge disappointment when he learned of the King's anger and fury that he and Margaret both undergone behind his back and without his consent. Banishment from count was completely and utterly humiliating. Charles Brandon had never thought he would ever experience such an event due to his close friendship to the King. But Henry had acted unexpectedly like he usually had done in the past with many others. Living in the country side quickly became a bore. Margaret did not fulfill his desires and he often took pleasure with other woman. He knew that everyday Margaret was growing depressed with his affairs but that did not bother him in the slightest. Charles had always been a womanizer and one woman would never change that. Not even the sister of the King.

"You have only loved me for an hour!" she yelled in his face referring to that one time they had passionate sex on the long sea voyage to Portugal.

Charles Brandon himself didn't know if what she said was true. Yes he did love her but some days when he looked at Margaret, he saw nothing but a mere woman.

Charles Brandon had recently become an ally of the Duke of Norfolk and Thomas Boleyn. The trio began to devise a plain to bring about the downfall of Cardinal Wolsey and to ensure his own return to court. After the removal of Cardinal Wolsey as Lord Chancellor, Brandon was appointed to the presidency of the Privy Council by Henry. The King seemed joyous to finally see Charles after so long and decided to welcome the two back to court. Charles wasn't a fool. He could see the King had recently become a very happy man. Anne Boleyn had changed Henry to a different man. He had become quite generous to others especially to the Boleyn's. Parties were ensued quite often in the court and the palace had become a dreamy heaven to those who loved festivity.

Today the King had organised a hunt. His closest friends and companions were invited to join, including Charles Brandon. Like they had often done in the past, Charles and Henry raced through the woods on top of their huge, well-bred horses.

"Still think you can beat me, Duke of Suffolk?" laughed Henry.

Charles Brandon reared his horse to face the King.

"Aye I do, your majesty" chided Charles.

"Aren't you becoming quite full of yourself!" Henry mocked.

Grinning, Charles replied "The rest of the hunting party are growing somewhat worried without their King, maybe it's time for your return?"

King Henry chuckled "Trying to weasel yourself out of a challenge you cannot win, your grace?"

Charles didn't reply but joined in with King Henry's laughter. After they both had become silent Henry said "I have some business with you, Charles"

Quirking one eyebrow Charles asked "What would require of me, your majesty?"

"I need you to head toward Kimbolton castle. Try to persuade the Dowager Princess to sign her daughter's bastardy. If Mary refuses to do so, then we must get the Spanish bitch to do it. It's unfortunate how persistent those both are. Like mother and daughter." Henry snorted in disgust.

Charles grimaced at the insulted word he used toward the once Queen Catherine. He had heard that the Lady Mary had been sent to the tower for refusing sign away her legitimacy. It surprised the Duke how the King had quickly sided against his only daughter. Charles still recalled when the King would pick up a young Mary and twirl her in the air. "England's precious peal" he called her.

"I will do what the King wishes" he replied.

Beaming, the King patted him on the back. "Of course you would"

The rest of the day was drudgery. Charles Brandon was sweating head to toe in his dark, thick attire. The King on the other hand had a splendid time. Henry had caught a large boar and presented it as a gift to Anne Boleyn. It was clearly obvious to the whole court that two were deeply in love. Many nobleman and woman alike did their best to not displease to two in any way. The ones who criticized the match were long ago charged with treason. The Boleyn's became the most powerful family at court and none of the others could contradict that fact. Charles Brandon hated how corrupt court life now became for him and leaving for Kimbolton castle was a much better appeal than staying in a place run by the Boleyn's.

Charles had his chamber man and servants pack up all his belongings and goods. He had left right at nightfall, not wanting to stay any longer at court.

* * *

Mary was locked up in the tower… Her poor, poor daughter was locked away like a criminal. Tears streamed down her wrinkled face. Life was brutal. When everything seemed to go smoothly there was always something that would cause all her joy to crumble away. A wet cloth was placed on her forehead to sooth the heat coming from her body. Her month was almost due and the baby would soon be born. But the child would be stillborn just like all her others. There was no hope left anymore. Her old age would never produce a healthy, living child. A midwife sat nearby observing her swollen belly.

"The younglin' seems strong. A few more weeks and the babe will come poppin' out" croaked the fat ginger woman whose whole face was covered in dark brown freckles. Catherine tenderly smiled up at the woman and wearily closed her hazel eyes. Catherine had been bedridden for seven days after receiving the horrid news of her daughter's imprisonment. She had overheard the midwife telling one of her maids that she would miscarry if she let her emotions affect her health. It was already too late for her emotions had affected her body long, long ago.

Maria worried for her ladies health often. She was expected to give birth within days and her wellbeing had deflated within the week. Sighing, Maria walked tiredly through the corridor to Catherine's chamber. Suddenly, a servant boy came rushing from the entry way of the corridor. He rushed over to her and heavily breathed in air to catch his breath.

Impatient, Maria snapped "What is it, Boy? I haven't got all day"

"A man is 'ere. He want t-ta…" the boy stuttered through his thick Scottish accent.

Her tolerance was beginning to grow weary "Where is he?"

"O-outside in th-the courtyar'-" he replied.

Nodding, Maria wondered who this man was and as she reached the courtyard, a huge carriage was sighted and a young, handsome man strode towards her.

"I require an audience with Catherine of Aragon, the dowager princess" he said.

Maria quickly sensed danger and brushed him off "I fear My Lady is not in the best condition. Maybe some other time…"

Charles Brandon took out a scroll and shoved the parchment into the woman's face. His black-gloved finger pointed at the red waxed royal symbol plastered at the closing flap.

"The King himself ordered my arrival. I wish to speak to the Dowager Princess right this very moment"

Gulping, Maria said "We can arrange an audience as soon as my ladies health improves. For now would you like to get yourself settled, My Lord?"

Charles Brandon frowned "That would not be necessary. I hope to leave before sunset and in doing so; I need to meet with the Dowager Princess this instant."

Maria felt her body quiver and sweat. This was definitely not what she expected to deal with.

"If it is of that big of importance, I will find an arrangement."

Brandon didn't feel very pleased with her answer but it was decent enough for the moment.

Maria ushered the persistent noblemen inside Kimbolton and managed to have him patiently sit and a wait for his consultation with Catherine. After she had him sitting, Maria immediately headed towards Catherine's Chamber.

"My lady!" Maria burst in the room.

Catherine looked over at her servant, her features portraying shock, surprise and a hint of fright.

"My god! Maria you frightened the daylights out of me." She gasped.

"A man from court sent by the King wishes to seek an audience with you this very moment. I tried to discourage him but he persisted on visiting" Maria blubbered, fear at being discovered evident on her face.

Catherine paled and she had gathered thick blankets around her bed to cover her swollen belly. She then turned her body so her oversized abdominal could not be seen.

"We have no choice but to receive him" murmured Catherine. "Let him in"

Nodding, Maria left the compartment and took her time walking back to the man. When she had reached the noblemen, Maria made no hurry explaining how horrible her ladies condition was but he didn't seem to care and followed her through the corridors.

Charles Brandon surveyed the grey stoned walls and cracking window panes. The castle was definitely not as luxurious as others the King owned and it was no wonder why he gave this one away. Walking through the hallways through eerie silence greatly bothered him but he shoved that irritating feeling away and continued to follow the servant woman. After some time they had finally reached the destination and the old woman held the door open for him to enter. Charles could have sworn he saw her shaking and wondered if she was cold. As he entered, Charles caught sight of the woman once Queen lying in a huge bed with thick blankets wrapped around her body. She was curved in a strange angle and her face was a sickly pasty white. After Catherine had dismissed Maria, she turned to face Charles and beamed at the sight of him. Charles then began to feel awfully guilty. He wasn't here as a kind visitor. It was duty to the King that brought him and not the compassion in his heart.

"It's been quite some time since I last saw you, your grace. As you can see, I'm not in the best condition…-" Catherine was stopped mid sentence as a painful jab erupted from her womb. Her child seemed to be moving but it caused her great pain. Her lower belly felt like tiny pricks of needles pinned her.

"I… ah…" she painfully gasped, trying to get a hold of the situation. If this pain was to proceed then Charles Brandon would most likely discover her pregnancy.

"My Lady, are you alright?" Charles asked with concern.

"I- I… Maria…" Catherine found it hard to speak. Her mouth was shaped in a little O and it was difficult to draw breath.

Charles Brandon followed his instincts and rushed to her side. Carefully he pulled her upward in a sitting position "Take a deep breath, My Lady."

Catherine listened to him and inhaled a vast amount of air.

"That's good. Continue that process" said Charles Brandon. He began to readjust her position so she was sitting upward more comfortably.

Catherine followed his instructions not paying much attention to the thick fur blankets that were beginning to slip off her body.

The instant he saw the old Queen looking more satisfactory he stood upward. Charles looked over at the sickly woman and was immediately a taken back at the scene of her exploding womb. It was obvious even to a fool to see that Catherine was pregnant.

"Do my eyes fail me? Is what I see really possible?" questioned Charles, his green eyes in daze.

"I can explain! Please Charles do not send word to the King!"Catherine cried, her eyes shining in tears.

Charles grew to shaken to speak. Was the Child she was carrying the King's? Or another's?

* * *

OH NO! Catherine is finally discovered.

Thanks so much for the kind reviews! Hope you guys enjoyed this new chapter.


	5. Little Arthur

Thank you for all the kind reviews. You guys are the best! I can't believe I have 20 followers already and I only have four chapters out. I hope you all enjoy chapter 5.

* * *

Listening to Catherine's bewildering story sparked an apprehensive feeling inside him. A part of him told him to head straight back to court and tell Henry all that had occurred but he came to the conclusion to wait until the child's birth and then further determine his actions from there.

"Are you quite sure it's the King's?" he asked for the millionth time.

Catherine rolled her eyes "Yes, I'm positive. I haven't slept with anyone besides Henry"

Charles Brandon didn't doubt a second that what she was saying was false. Catherine was very religious and would never sleep with another man. Causing such a sin was completely beyond her nature.

"Why haven't you come forward with the information?" Charles inquired. He had completely forgotten to use his manners but in this situation it was easily overlooked.

"Henry loves Anne" she replied bluntly. "I could never sway him from his care and love for her. I doubted this child would be able to survive due to my past but it seems the odds are with me. I merely hoped I would be able to raise this child without any interference" Catherine shook her head and stared right into his eyes.

"I was a complete fool to think so. My pregnancy was bound to be discovered. It's a marvel how I was able to hide such a secret for so long"

Charles Brandon sat in the leather arm chair silently; listening to Catherine's every word. They both stayed awkwardly silent for what seemed like an eternity until Maria entered the chamber. The look on woman's face was priceless.

"My lady… what…" she faltered, her words stuck in her throat.

"He's discovered the truth, Maria. There's no need to keep it a secret any longer" Catherine sighed, patting the thick furs currently resting on her thin legs.

Maria turned to glare at the man who didn't look the slightest bit bothered by her hatred and loathing.

"Why have you come here, Charles?" Catherine asked.

Charles Brandon was forced out of his thoughts and cleared his throat.

"The King wishes for you to sign away your daughter's legitimacy and claim to the throne. You are also to agree that your marriage to the King was unlawful and a sin" said Charles Brandon, regretting the words the moment they slipped out of his mouth. Catherine had already suffered plentiful through the course of these months. She did not deserve another problem weighing on her shoulders.

"You're asking me to declare my only child a bastard?!" cried Catherine, her hysteria growing worse. Maria immediately rushed to her side and tried to sooth her pain.

"Not your only child" Charles retorted. "Think of the one lying in your very womb. It shall not matter if it's a boy nether the less it would be a bastard."

Catherine could no longer keep her emotions in tacked and snapped "Do you think me of a fool? I'm not senseless, I can easily figure out the future of both my children. My children carry the blood of the Imperial Spanish and English in their veins. Why should they be brought up as offspring of common whores?"

Charles took a deep breath, responding "Your daughter is currently in the tower of London. This may be the only chance to save her before the King's famous mood swings hit in. You must act"

Saying those words caused Catherine a throbbing tremor and she began to weep. Maria turned angrily towards him, piercing him with a cold frown "You're causing my lady distress. It would be proper for you to take your leave"

"No" interjected Catherine to both Maria's and Charles surprise. "My daughter is currently in danger and… even though I hate to admit it…" she took a deep breath and wiped her wet cheeks

"It would be for the best for me to recognise her illegitimacy, even if I am most against the proclamation… If this is the only way to keep my daughter from harm then I would do anything to keep my only child safe" She whispered.

Charles heaved a deep breath. _This was much easier than expected _he thought to himself.

With a nod from Catherine, her maid, Maria, walked to the dark wooden desk top and pulled out a single quill with an ink pot. After the scroll was signed and stamped with Catherine's personal seal she turned to look him right in the face.

"I'm not doing any of this for you. This is all to protect Mary"

"And I do not contradict that" Brandon replied coolly.

Catherine gripped her think bedspreads and questioned "What will you do now? Do you plan to return to court and tell Henry on your newfound secret?"

He shook his head "No, My Lady I do not. I plan to stay until the birth of the child."

Catherine peered cautiously at Charles, suddenly a familiar agonizing sensation swept through her body. Cringing in pain, Catherine managed to withhold the discomfort but she could not stop the loud yelp from leaving her lips.

"Well, you're in luck, My Lord. It seems my lady is currently in labor" Maria stood and quickly summoned the midwife whose room had been prepared close to Catherine's in case of an emergency.

"It would be best for you to leave, my lord. This is not a sight for a man to see" murmured Maria, ushering Charles Brandon out of the chamber. The second he was out the door, Catherine let out an excorticating scream from the top of her lungs.

The pain through her lower region was intolerable. Her abdomen felt like it was splitting in half. Catherine began to pray for a healthy delivery. She could not bear for another one of her children to end up stillborn. The labor was much painful then she had ever experienced in her past.

"The lil babe is much too large" The ginger midwife softly mumbled to Maria so Catherine wouldn't hear. "Get 'er to sit up so the birthing can come much easily"

Nodding, Maria lifted her lady up so she was sitting upright and leaning on the headboard of her canopy bed. "Everything will be fine" Maria soothed to Catherine who let out an exhausted groan.

* * *

Charles sat in his dark guest chamber and sipped the dark red wine, wondering what his next actions should be. Another shrill scream erupted through the corridors and Charles swiftly drank the whole goblet of wine. It was a true miracle for the Queen to become pregnant. Anyone in the Christendom would think of it was an impossibility. Catherine was an old woman who suffered years of miscarries and stillborn's. The only child who had survived was merely a young girl who had no qualifications in continuing the Tudor line. She was to after all take her husband's name, whoever he may be. If the child Catherine manages to produce is a male he will be of much benefit to the Kingdom, that is if Henry recognised the child as his.

Sighing, Charles gazed out the blurry glass window. Rain drops thunderously hit the glass in rapid motions. The weather outside was nastily horrific. Pools of mud were created on the soft, lush grass and streams of water ran down the dirt roads causing it to be difficult for carriage wheels to cycle on. His thoughts were interrupted once again by Catherine's agonizing cry. Brandon was a very impatient man at the moment. He could only sit and wait and that's bothered him a great deal. After what seemed like hours, Charles Brandon stood, not able to time lag any longer and stalked out of the room. He stood by the wooden door that was entry to Catherine's chamber and paced the corridors, impatiently waiting.

* * *

Inside the Chamber, Maria hurriedly rushed over to the basin of water and dipped the blood stained cloths into the clear water. The tormenting cries given by Catherine gave Maria headaches and worries. Poor Catherine had been in labour since noon. It was currently the mid of night and the pain had made no effort to seize. Thick red blood gushed through the abdomen but the child was nowhere in sight. It seemed to Maria that they weren't going anywhere.

"Ya need to push, mam" said the midwife, as she held Catherine's legs apart.

"I-I am!" stammered Catherine, trying to get a hold of her breathing.

Maria took a wet cloth and gently placed the towel on Catherine's searing hot forehead.

"I see the tykes head! Ya'll doin' a great job" The midwife placed her hands on the tip of the babes skull to support his head.

Maria peered over and saw the red head crowning in. The midwife held the baby's head in her hand and soon the whole body slipped out. The baby lay deathly quiet in the midwife's hands but after a few seconds the baby let out a wailing cry. Beside her, Catherine took a deep breath and lay down on the cushions.

"What is it?" she rasped, closing her eyes in rest.

"A hearty young boy" beamed the midwife as she washed the blood of the wailing baby. After wrapping the baby boy in a clean white cloth, she handed the child over to his mother.

Catherine weakly reached over to her child and held the screaming baby close to her chest.

"Hush, Child, hush…" she cooed, cradling the child close to her. As Catherine gazed into the child's eyes she was reminded of her first love. "Arthur… I want his name to be Arthur"

Catherine looked straight into Maria's eyes and murmured "Promise me… Promise me to take care of little Arthur"

Tears welled up in her eyes and Maria nodded, not able to emit a single sound. Catherine smiled and took her final breath before her soul could take flight. The baby began to cry louder as if knowing that his mother had passed away. Maria blinked her tears away and solemnly picked up the young baby boy still encircled in his mother's arms.

"God bless 'er soul" sighed the midwife, crossing herself. "It was a difficult birth but she's in god's hands now"

Maria wanted to yell at the woman, telling her who the woman she was tending wasn't just an ordinary noblewoman but the rightful Queen of England. But Maria managed to keep her mouth shut and handed the little boy over to the newly hired wet nurse.

Charles Brandon stood outside the entry way, his handsome face in a grim expression.

"May she rest in peace" he said, eyeing her bloody white apron and red swollen eyes.

Maria did not reply but continued to stare right into his green eyes as if challenging him to a glowering contest.

"A boy was it?" he inquired.

"Yes, A boy" she snapped. He didn't seem fazed by her anger and continued asking questions.

"A healthy boy?"

"Yes he is, my lord" she said, wondering what the man was planning.

Charles smirked and reached into his coats pockets, retreating a bag of coins.

"Take good care of him" he said, handing her the bag bulging in fat coins.

"I don't need your money… I would raise Arthur regardless" she stated, glaring holes into the man.

Charles Brandon laughed "I know you would. Your loyalty to Catherine is quite strong. No matter, you will need the money sooner or later to support the young lad. Babies are quite expensive"

Maria thought of his words and saw meaning in them. Gingerly she took the fat bag of coins.

"I shall be returning to court. Good night to you, my lady" and with that he was off.

* * *

**RIP Catherine of Aragon!** Sorry to all of you who didn't want her to die but it was expected at her age, she was too weak and old to give birth. It was either the baby's death or hers.

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	6. Court in an Uproar

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* * *

The Duke of Suffolk was welcomingly returned to court by many. The King was overjoyed when Charles presented the king with Catherine of Aragon's recognition of her daughter's bastardy and relinquish to the throne. Watching as Henry smiled with glee made Charles gut twist in disgust. The new of Catherine of Aragon's death was taken deeply by faithful Catholics who immediately dressed in sorrowful black in mourning. Catherine's body was being cremated at this very moment and her funeral carefully arranged. Fortunately, No one in court yet knew of the son born from Catherine. Charles Brandon hoped to tell the King behind closed doors but he had found it hard to grasp the King on his own for he was always surrounded by courtiers and the damnable Boleyn's. He desperately needed to tell the King of his son but there had never been a good moment to begin the conversation in private.

Brandon walked through the passageways in the direction to the King's luxurious chamber. As he neared the entry way to his royal compartment, soft laughs came from the cracks of the door. The Duke immediately recognized them of Queen Anne. Another laugh erupted and it was of the King's. It proved to Charles how perfectly the Boleyn girl had the King wrapped around her little finger. He hesitated pushing the door open.

"I beg your pardon, your majesty." Charles Brandon said, gazing at the two couples, both toasting in wine and jesting with each other.

"Ah, Charles, what brings you here?" The King inquired. Queen Anne turned her attention to Charles, piercing him with a seductive intent look that greatly infatuated Charles.

"Unfortunate business, your majesty. I wish to speak to you in…" Charles gazed once again at Queen Anne and admitted to himself she was truly a beautiful woman. "… In private"

King Henry laughed outright "The Queen will listen to what comes out of your lurid mouth, your grace"

Charles shifted his feet at the insult but continued "It would be much better if her majesty would not be present…"

At that short sentence, Henry loudly slammed his goblet on the table and growled "Don't presume to lecture me, Brandon. Know your place when you're present in front of your two sovereigns"

Charles Brandon felt slightly betrayed from his long-time friend but didn't show his emotions and remained expressionless.

"I beg for forgiveness, your majesties…" said Brandon, swallowing his pride.

Henry grunted his annoyance evident "Yes, yes I must always forgive you… What is it that you have to say? Be quick, I have no time for follies"

Charles Brandon grimaced at the King's harsh tone and wondered if it was the right moment to tell the King but it was already too late to back out.

"Catherine of Aragon is dead but she didn't die from a heart attack" he said simply, hating how stupidly idiotic he sounded.

King Henry looked bewildered and confused at Charles's words "Are you saying she was poisoned?"

"No, your majesty… she died in maternal death"

The King's face clearly showed his emotions. He was puzzled and lost to what Charles had said. To the King Henry's right, Anne Boleyn took in a sharp breath, looking virtually frightened. Henry's face automatically was contorted in fury.

"Charles… If you're jesting…"

"This is no joke" snapped Charles Brandon, wanting to kick himself for sounding so prudent "Your majesty, the dowager princess has delivered a son"

Henry Tudor stood roughly, knocking his goblet over. The thick red liquid leaked down the smooth stilted table and onto the pure white rug, forever staining the snowy carpet.

"What?!" he roared, raising up to his two feet and swiftly paced over to Charles Brandon who had not yet failed to betray his emotions.

"What is it you say? Repeat your words!" roared the King, anger riling up inside of him like a blazing fire.

"Before Catherine passed away from… childbearing, she had claimed the child was yours. I hoped to convey to you in private about this matter so there would not be an uproar" sullenly replied Charles Brandon, speculating if Henry would strike him.

Anne Boleyn who sat in the opposite side of the room finally spoke up "Is what you speak truly so? The King would never sleep with a woman he was close to discarding"

Charles eyed Henry Tudor and noted the slight expression of culpability but it was quickly distinguished as wrath began to consume him.

"The filthy Spanish whore believes that if she sleeps with some tavern wrench, then she could pass off the bastard as my own! I do not claim this bastard boy as my son. I want nothing to do with her spawn"

Charles Brandon forced himself to prevent his eyes from rolling. "Wouldn't you wish to see the child beforehand?" he probed, anticipating for Henry to change his mind but to no avail.

"Don't be ridiculous, Brandon. I have no interest in seeing a baby whose father nothing but a mere commoner." Stated Henry, clenching his hands into round fists. "I want the council summoned this instance, I want this issue over and done with!"

Seeing no point to further convince the King to seeing Arthur, Charles bowed and headed out the door to prepare the privy council for an official conference. He didn't like one bit how his meeting with the King played out and despised to see the other noblemen's reactions to Catherine's son.

* * *

The man clad in dark black robes remained utterly silent as the King angrily referred to Catherine's son as an abomination. Their minds were jumbled to what Henry was saying but they had quickly recollected themselves and strategized their next move as politicians were meant to do.

"What do you say we must do with the bastard, your majesty?" asked Thomas Howard, 3rd Duke of Norfolk.

"I hardly care what happens to the woman's frogspawn, I want it to be further known that I am not the father!" The King roared, smashing his fists on the long table. A few lords closest to him cowered at his temper.

"Of course, your majesty the bastard boy is certainly not yours" replied Thomas Howard, inclining his head to show his respect. The King huffed angrily and continued ranting about Catherine's infidelity and producing a bastard son to spite him.

"Would the boy continue to reside in Kimbolton castle, your majesty?" asked Thomas Cromwell.

Henry looked thoughtful for a mere moment but anger was swiftly replaced "Let the Spanish dogs take him back where he belongs or maybe his common born father shall retrieve him to his ranch so he could become a farm boy"

A large number of the King's advisors outwardly laughed at Henry's joke but the few others who were relatively known as Catholic and in the past supported to Catherine's regime looked absolutely stricken.

"And if none comes to claim the boy?" Cromwell continued to ask, still grinning ear to ear after the King's hilarious jest.

Before the King could reply, Charles Brandon who had heard enough from the power hungry aristocrats stepped in to display his opinion. "It would be best if they lad continues to be present in Kimbolton. There he would be of no threat"

"The boy will not live in my residence!" Henry snapped "Send him to the north, theirs a decent house the bastard may reside in. After today I pray to hear nothing of his existence"

His advisors nodded their agreements and voiced their consideration to the process of sending Arthur to the North. Charles hated the idea of a newborn infant being sent to the harsh, cruel climate. It was very much likely for the boy to catch a fever and die at a young age. Charles wanted to convince the King to reconsider but Henry's mind was completely set.

* * *

Returning to his private chamber was a comforting thought to Charles after all that had transpired earlier. As he entered his vast luxurious quarters, his eyes fell upon his wife, Margaret who sat into a velvet red cushioned arm chair, idly staring into the heath, where a rapid fire blazed. Her gown was a soft pink satin and silk, trimmed in the finest lace. The front of the dress was cut so low; it looked as if her bosom would burst any second.

"Charles" she murmured. "Is it true?"

"What's true?" he asked, fully knowing what she meant.

"Catherine has given birth to a bastard son. The whole court is talking" Margaret said, playing with her pearl necklace.

Charles sighed. Rumors spread like wild fire here at Hampton court "Aye, what they say is accurate"

Margaret lingered in silence for a few seconds before asking another question "What do you consider of all this? Is the boy the true son of Catherine and Henry?"

"I can hardly say" muttered Charles, closing his eyes in weariness.

Unnoticed by Charles, Margaret hoisted herself so she was standing and approached her lord husband. "Have you been with another whore?" she bluntly asked.

A taken back by her random inquiry, Charles angrily barked "Of course not!"

"Then tell me, my lord why have you grown so distant?" Margaret snapped back.

Charles heaved a deep groan "It's been a long, eventful day. I'm simply tired"

Margaret furrowed her small, pretty face and retorted sarcastically "Are you sure dear Husband that you haven't fucked any whores on your journey to Catherine? Or were you much too drunk to remember?"

Charles Brandon automatically stood up and glared at the sister of the King. "No, your highness, I have not 'fucked' any whores recently. Now if you excuse me" Charles Brandon strode out, fuming as he went. Behind him, Margaret clasped back into her velvet arm chair and pitifully sobbed.

* * *

Phew, I was hoping to finish this chapter earlier but I haven't had the time because I working and when I got home I was too exhausted to write. This chapter is not as long as my other ones and for that I'm sorry! I hope you all enjoyed this new chapter.

Please review! Thanks to all those awesome people who have. You guys are all my favourites.


	7. Realisation

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The harsh stoned walls were rigid and stiffly embedded on the tower walls. A small fire burned in the miniature hearth, radiating a red and orange colourful light in the dark, secluded room. On the floor, Mary kneeled with her tiny hands clasped together in prayer. News had arrived of her mother's death a fortnight ago, yet she still had no idea what had transpired with the child. Was it another stillborn or was the letter sent a fabrication? She clearly recognised the seal and her mother's signature was genuine. The handwriting also looked like her mothers. Day's like these were too difficult to bear and all Mary could do was pray for a brighter future.

Mary begged god to help her through this struggle in her life. Everything was a puzzle but with many pieces that had gone missing. Her poor mother was lying in a cold casket, awaiting her funeral in suburban land that no Queen should ever be buried. Life seemed meaningless to Mary.

A sudden noise came from the entry way to her cell. Standing upright, Mary curiously stared as the latch turned and the door swung open. Relief swarmed Mary as she caught sight of Ambassador Chapuys entering the crammed room, twitching his nose at the foul air.

"Your highness" he bowed, taking off his feathered hat.

Without a moment's hesitation, Mary run forward and embraced her long-time friend. Gingerly, Chapuys accepted her enfold not quite used to her interaction.

"I see you've not been visited very often" he murmured, a smile forming on his wrinkled face.

"Indeed, I've been separated from any signs of life" replied Mary, instantly warming up to the only company she received in a very long time.

"I see your accommodations are not the most… comfortable" said Chapuys, observing the small bed that lay on the far corner of the stony room.

"I've gotten quite used to it" she sighed. Mary quickly changed the conversation "Tell me, what's been happening outside this pathetic tower?"

Chapuys face suddenly went grim "I must apologise for your poor mother's death"

Mary's expression also fell "Yes… I have heard" she paused and strained herself to prevent tears from streaming from her eyes.

"The court's in quite an uproar. Rumors are circulating court that is strongly surrounding your mother" said Chapuys, loathing the direction of their discussion.

"What rumors?" Mary asked curiously, blinking tiny tears away.

"Your mother is said to have died from childbearing. She has delivered a son" Chapuys watched Mary carefully. Her face was shockingly calm when he had told her of her mother's manner of death but when he mentioned the word son, her expression quickly contorted in relief.

"A son?" she repeated. He nodded, and then suddenly it hit him why Mary acted so indifferently.

"Tell me, my lady. Did you know of your mother's pregnancy?"

Mary's strayed her chocolate brown eyes away from his and he abruptly understood.

"How?" he questioned, his mind reeling in ideas.

Mary exhaled and once again faced Chapuys "My mother had dispatched a letter and had written of her miraculous pregnancy"

Ambassador Chapuys dipped his head and inquired "Do you believe the child is the King's?"

Mary regarded him with bewilderment and anger "I most definitely do! My mother would never sleep with another besides my father"

Instantly ashamed by his impulsive question, Chapuys apologised "I beg forgiveness, my lady. Your father has made quite a point that the child was not his own"

Shock embedded Mary to her very core. "W-why n-not?" she stuttered.

Ambassador Chapuys sorrowfully explained the King's proclamation in front of the whole council and his decision to send the 'bastard' boy up north.

"I can't believe it" Mary collapsed in a nearby wooden chair and cradled her head. Her mother had been right. She had written that the King would never consider her child as his own but Mary was naïve and continued to hope for her father to love her like he did once upon a time. She wanted her family back. How could she be so immature?

"I'm sorry, my lady. The King could always change his mind, we must be patient." Said Chapuys, wanting her happy mood to resurface. Mary did not reply but continued to gaze at the other side of the stoned wall.

"That is not all, my lady…" he paused, waiting for her attention.

Mary turned back to Chapuys, listening to what other bad news he had to bring.

"Your mother, Catherine, has… signed your illegitimacy." Chapuys watched as Mary face was contorted in astonishment. It felt like someone had down him a blow as he watched her suffer.

"No…no my mother would never…" she breathed, refusing to accept what she had just heard.

"The King was presented with her seal by Charles Brandon. Her signature was proved authentic"

Mary shook her head and continued to disagree "My mother had always fought for my birth right. She wouldn't just simply give up"

"It appears she has" responded Chapuys, looking sincerely apologetic.

"Why? Why would she just throw all that she has taught me to believe like it was nothing?" asked Mary, tears brewing in her eyes

Chapuys had no answer to that and all he could do at that very moment was hand the poor girl a scented handkerchief to wash her tears. Mary pushed his hand away and wiped her teary eyes with one hand.

"My father… does he want me to also accept myself as illegitimate?" she questioned.

Chapuys nodded grimly, craving to be of more help but unfortunately, he was completely useless in this situation.

Mary thought hard on the circumstances. Her mother must've agreed to the King's wishes for some sort of motive. Mary wondered if she spent so long declining the King's wishes, would he eventually give up or continue keeping her in the Tower? Or would he do much worse? She had no idea of her father's intentions but considering she was currently locked in the tower, something much worse can come of it. Her mother had always been right so perhaps obeying her father will benefit and protect her.

"Chapuys… I… I have no choice but to pronounce myself as illegitimate" she said. "I accept myself as a bastard" she whispered; never thinking she'd say those words.

_This is for you, little brother. When I get released, I will come to you. You're the only one left for me. _She thought.

Ambassador Chapuys was beyond surprise. He wondered if he should argue but realised this would an advantage to her in the long run. Chapuys walked out of the cell to get all the necessities for the process.

* * *

Vast amounts of cloth were presented to the Queen in numerous amounts. Anne carefully regarded the silver silk and stroked the satin to distinguish its quality. After her observation, Anne smiled at the dressmaker who was clad in deep purple.

"I adore the texture, Sir Francois. I believe it would make a wonderful gown."

The dress maker bowed and a slight blush appeared on his cheeks at the kind compliment.

"Merci beaucoup, your majesty" beamed the French tongued dressmaker.

Anne continued to grin as she gazed upon the many layered colourful silk offered to her. The fabric was very expensive and exquisite. The very garments a Queen was meant to wear. All her dresses and gowns were specifically designed in French tastes for French outfits were greatly more detailed in trimming and decoration then the sophisticated English gowns.

As Anne continued peering at her many dresses, she had not noticed her Husband, Henry walking into the compartment. "Anne" he called.

Turning her attention to her husband, Anne merely smiled and sprawled herself into his strong arms. "Henry" she responded, her eyes twinkling.

Kissing her on the forehead, Henry murmured "How was your morning?"

"Pleasant" she answered back. Unexpectedly her expression turned unattractive "Until I heard a courtier speaking of Catherine's bastard son"

Henry's face became twisted in anger "Who? Who was this imprudent fool?"

"Does it matter?" she asked. "Everyone in Hampton court is talking of the bastard" Anne Boleyn turned her gaze away from Henry's.

Henry heaved a great sigh "You mustn't listen, Anne."

"That's not possible" Anne snapped, breaking herself from his arms "Everywhere I go I hear them whispering of Catherine's child. I can't stand it, Henry. The boy's is a mere bastard and I shall give you many legitimate sons you would be proud to call your own"

Henry grasped her thin arm and pulled her towards him. "The boy is meaningless, Anne. I want you and only you." Henry stared down at her ample red lips and couldn't stop himself from crushing his lips onto hers. After what seemed like eons, the two lovers finally broke away, desperately drawing in more air that had been lost due to their smothering kiss.

"Mary is to be released" said Henry, stroking Anne's bare back "She has agreed to my wishes"

Anne beamed at her husband and kissed his left cheek. Their children will sit on the English throne for generations to come and knowing that fact made Anne giddy with happiness.

"Is she to return to Hudson?" Anne questioned.

"Most likely" answered Henry, nuzzling into Anne's shoulder as she laughed at the interaction.

"Will you allow Mary to give her farewell to her mother?"

Henry's arrogant face scrunched up in resentment "No! She will not be allowed to attend the funeral. Mary has caused enough trouble"

Anne was thoroughly stunned at the King's hateful response "Why not? Her mother's dead, Henry. Let the poor girl be present at the Burial. She's of no harm"

"I will not allow it. Mary is a troublesome child, she must learn." Henry said simply. Anne saw no point in further questioning the King and gave him a soft peck on the cheek.

The royal couple entered the court room clad in bright yellow. The queen wore a beautiful golden yellow golden with pearls braided in her thick black hair. The King was completely covered in yellow from head to toe except for a single white feather he had in his bonnet. The mourners for Catherine of Aragon were deeply shocked at the sight of their King and Queen dressed in merry colours, signifying happiness and joy. It was as if they both were celebrating the death of the Queen.

Bishop Fisher was downright dumbfounded as he watched Henry and Anne dance, cheerfulness plain in their expressions. His good and long-time friend approached him; Sir Thomas More moved towards Bishop Fisher, also very displeased with the King's and Queen's jolly outfit and behavior.

"The joy that the King and those who favor this concubine have shown at the death of the good Queen is absolutely despicable. Downright, sinful" hissed Thomas into his ear.

The two men immediately left court and strode through the green, luscious gardens of Hampton.

"I had been present with the Earl of Wiltshire and his son, who said it was a pity the Princess did not company her mother, Catherine" Thomas raged, upset at his encounter with the disgraceful Boleyn.

"All of England are becoming heretics. We must restore the Catholic church" said Bishop Fisher.

"The King had already decreed himself as a protestant. It's impossible to change his religion" responded Thomas More, sometimes wishing Fisher would think as politician and not always as a holy man. "What do you think of the young infant Catherine has given birth to?"

Bishop Fisher looked thoughtful "What is there to say? The King does not recognise him. He's better as nothing but a bastard"

"The concubine is not yet pregnant…" murmured Thomas, pausing to think.

"But she soon will be!" interrupted the Bishop. "It's only a matter of time"

Thomas More rested on a nearby timber bench, taking off his bonnet as he did so. "I heard Ambassador Chapuys accompanied the Lady Mary back to Hudson Castle. She has also followed her mother's footsteps and agreed on her illegitimacy"

"Lady Mary has her reasons. At this moment, we must hope she never renounces the true faith like her father has" said Bishop Fisher.

"I doubt that will ever happen, Bishop. Mary's a true Catholic" proclaimed Sir Thomas. "Unlike the traitor Cardinal Wolsey"

Bishop Fisher's face was immediately contorted in repulsion and hatred "Don't speak that heretics name! He betrays god by agreeing to marry that Boleyn Harlot to the King"

"And now he's the Archbishop of England. A high position that a son of a King can be bestowed with" muttered Thomas More, shaking his head in displeasure.

Bishop Fisher snorted "The late King, Henry the 7th sought for Prince Henry to become an archbishop when Arthur was still living and well. Imagine such a sight if Prince Arthur lived to reign as King?"

Sir Thomas More couldn't help but laugh at the idea of the ruthless and low tempered Henry Tudor being christened as an archbishop. It was truly a folly imagination.

* * *

Maria had been tending the young Arty, as she now called him in his crib. The young boy was a bundle of joy but also loads of hard toil. After two weeks, the child had reached a chubby size and had always thrown temper tantrums at whatever time he was voracious. Maria began to feel remorseful for the unfortunate wet nurse who couldn't satisfy young Arthur's appetite.

A gurgle came from below, Arthur softly sneezed and a spurt of boogers came oozing from his petite nose. Maria giggled as little Arthurs ogled his big dark eyes. Grabbing a tissue, Maria wiped the snot from his miniature doll-like face. Carefully, she had picked the young infant up and cradled the crooning baby in her arms. She began to sing a lullaby and watched in awe as little Arthur began to drift asleep. Time seemed to be passing rapidly when Maria spent time with Arthur. She had not paid much attention to the hour until she heard a loud bang from outside. Blinking in drowsiness, Maria carefully placed the sleeping baby back into his cradle and reached towards the door.

Maria was stunned at the sight of numerous soldiers standing outside the entrance to the nursery.

"What has brought you to Kimbolton? There are no criminals under this roof"

The leader of the guardsman ignored her question "You and the bastard are to be transported from Kimbolton by the order of the King!"

Maria flinched at the crude word being referred to the innocent baby. "Where to, may I ask?"

"Felltern House. You have ten minutes to prepare for the journey" said the rough voice, his face hidden behind his helmet.

Maria nodded, too distressed to speak and hastily began to pack all the requirements for her and Arthur.

_What is going on? Why are we being transported? Why would the King impose this?_

Question filled her mind and Maria desperately tried to block them out. Her hands shook as she hurriedly crammed her belongings. Thankfully, the hired wet nurse had arrived and also began to help her prepare for the unexplained journey.

"M'am what do they want?" asked the wet nurse, her features covered in fright.

"Nothing to be afraid of" murmured Maria, hopeful her words were true.

"Time's up!" roared one of the guardsman. Maria silently cursed the vile man and wrapped the sleeping baby in a warm wool blanket. Arthur blinked tiredly and gave a soft yawn as Maria lifted the infant. Maria was suddenly frightened if Arthur were to scream and bellow at the unfamiliar, scary man but to her surprise, Arthur gazed intently at the guards as if inspecting them but after a short while he gave another gurgling yawn and nestled deep in Maria's arms.

Maria tightly cuddled little Arthur in her arms as one of the guardsman shouted to hurry her pace and slightly pushed her to speed up her walking.

"May god protect us" Maria mutely prayed.

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Woot woot! Another chapter!

Many of you guys thought Mary was going to be executed but I never planned for Henry to go that far. He would be the greatest fool if he had. His relations with the Spanish are already very strained so why would he make it worse by executing his daughter who simply rejected to call herself a bastard? He still cares for Mary even though their relationship at the moment is stressful.

Thanks to all the Kind Reviews! You guys are the best of the best of best … that made no sense.

Anyways, I love you all and I'm looking for a beta reader so if any of you guys are interested, message me!


	8. Uncertanties

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"Anne" her father's voice interrupted Anne's thought and she turned to gazed towards her father.

"Father? What a pleasant surprise" said Anne, faking her enthusiasm. She was not in the mood to be lectured and her father often did, especially since she had become Queen.

"I see you are still not with child" Thomas stated, glaring at her empty belly.

Anne sighed and sarcastically responded "Indeed, I am not. How did you figure out something so personal?"

Thomas Boleyn turned to glower at his daughter and snapped "I don't have time for your smart comments, daughter. Catherine has given birth to a son and people are beginning to question the bastard's true lineage. You must provide the King with an heir so the marriage between the Boleyn's and Tudor's could be protected"

Queen Anne countered back "It's 'your majesty' to you, father. You will never speak so impolitely to me ever again. I am your Queen and wife to the King, show me some respect" she hissed.

Thomas Boleyn swallowed his pride "And you must remember how you got there, daught-, your majesty" he quickly corrected himself, hating to do so "Anne, You need to realise the dire situation we have been placed under. You most secure the throne"

"I will, father. It takes time; don't expect it all to happen overnight. Be patient, the King loves me and he will do nothing to harm me"

"The King once loved Catherine" Thomas retorted back.

"When she had been young and beautiful! She is no longer of any threat and the bastard boy is well taken care of, don't fret father." Anne Boleyn turned her head away from her father, hoping he would choose the right decision and leave her presence.

Thomas sighed, contemplating his next move towards his perspicuous daughter. He decided to change the subject to something merrier. "Me and your uncle have a secured a good marriage for George"

Anne beamed "Who do you have in mind?"

"Lady Jane Parker" Thomas replied proudly.

Queen Anne's smile fell "Her? She's too pompous and seems quite immature for her age"

Thomas Boleyn rolled his eyes "Her family's extremely rich and cousins twice removed to the King. She's a perfect match for your brother, George"

Anne Boleyn shook her head "George despises her. He can't stand being in the same room as her"

"He ought to quit acting so stubborn! She's a fine lady with a well-connected family."

"He won't. He loathes Jane Parker. George had told me hateful rumors about Jane Parker many times." countered Anne, picking up a marvelous pearled mirror and inspecting her appearance.

"Why am I cursed with such tenacious children? Mary goes off marrying some low born knight and my only son refuses to be married!" Thomas took a deep breath and heaved in disappointment.

"Mary brought shame to this family by marrying a man below her station. Don't compare George and Mary together. George would never bring such dishonour to our family." Said Queen Anne, anger seeping in her voice. Her sister had greatly angered herself and her husband by marrying William Stafford. Her shameful action had resulted in Mary's banishment from court.

"Yes, yes. It's much better for her to remain in the country. Mary can be quite troublesome, talking about Mary's… I have heard Mary Tudor had finally agreed to accept your marriage to the King as lawful." Smirked Thomas Boleyn, greatly happy to have such a difficult task achieved.

"Indeed, Lady Mary has finally decided to give her right to the throne up. It took some time but sending her to the tower was most definitely worthwhile" muttered Anne, brushing her dark curls in swift motions.

Thomas Boleyn couldn't hide the shock from his expression "That was you?! You had her sent to the tower?" he gasped.

Queen Anne frowned "Most definitely not! But with a little persuasion to the King, he had sent Mary to the tower."

The new Earl sighed and scratched his white beard "You mustn't do such trivialities, Anne. Making new enemies is the least of our needs"

"I know father" she beamed, wanting the subject to close to an erupt end.

Anne kissed her father on his wrinkled forehead. "Oh, I must show you my new jewels the King has sent me! Come this way father…" she took her father by his hand and pulled him towards her private chamber to present her newly acquired treasures.

* * *

Rain thumped on the roof of the shaking, unsteady wooden carriage. Water pelted on the sides of the carriage as if hard rocks were being hailed on the walls. The mud stuck harshly onto the large, rounded wheels and it had almost made it impossible to pull but the four large horses had managed to pull the heavy carriage as if it was a mere cart.

Maria pulled the third wool blanket tightly around her shaking, stiff body. She had made sure to keep young Arty close to her warm bosom so the young babe would not catch fever. Maria was deeply glad the babe was sound asleep as she did not want to deal with a crying child in her hands. The unidentified escorts had not fully told her where in the country they were being sent to just the simple word "North" was the only identification she got of the place her captors were taking her.

The only company she had been allowed to take with her was the wet nurse. No maids, servants, cooks or any other were permitted to accompany her on the journey. At first it had been disastrous to think of how she would be able to survive in the company of only a wet nurse but she had remembered of the gold that the man who called himself Charles gave her and for the first time was glad of the money that had been gifted to her by the handsome nobleman. It had been a kind generosity that would benefit both Arthur and her. She had planned to hire a few maids to help her with the cleanliness and purchase a few new clothes for little Arty.

Maria peered through the tiny window and gazed at the dark woods covered in wet, dripping rain. It was extremely soggy outside the carriage and she could see tiny beads of water dripping for the corners of timber walls. The wet nurse across from her was sleeping soundly but not too long ago she had been hysterical about traveling at night through the forest. She had claimed wild beasts would attack us in the mid of night and witches prowled through the dark woods, looking for young children to eat for immortality. Maria had laughed at the fright of the woman and reassured her that they were quite safe and the only trouble we'll be facing is from the man escorting us to felltern castle. But strangely, Maria had become frightened of the dark and as she slept, dreams of cackling witches and large wolves preyed through her mind. It seemed in both worlds she had been living a nightmare.

* * *

"Ambassador Chapuys, There is some information I wish to acquire" stated Mary, as she gripped Chapuys arm. The two friends strode comfortable through the tiny garden of Hudson house. The lush green maple trees over towered the two small humans clad in expensive dark, black clothes in mourning for the late Queen, Catherine of Aragon.

"What do you wish to know, Lady Mary?" acquired Chapuys, curious what the young girl wished to know.

"Where is my… younger brother residing?" she inquired, shuffling through the turf grass while slightly holding her dark black silky gown so it would not get grass or dirt stains.

Ambassador Chapuys frowned, creasing his eyebrows. "The King had recently transferred the young boy away from Kimbolton. He had not stated the exact location but the King was known to have mentioned the north."

Lady Mary stopped in her tracks "The North? That is no place for a youngling."

Chapuys sighed "Yes, not for a royal blood but many children grow up in the North"

The young lady Mary scowled "That witch, Boleyn, has convinced him with her witch craft. My father would never..." she trailed, lost in her thoughts.

Ambassador Chapuys knew the hatred that Mary had felt for Anne Boleyn for replacing her mother as Queen but he recognized that Anne was not responsible for the young boy's disposal. Everyone in the council was witness to the King's words and proclamation.

"Anne Boleyn wasn't the one who signed for your brother to be transferred from Kimbolton."

Mary looked thoroughly shocked by his words "What are you trying to say, Chapuys?"

Inhaling, The Ambassador began "Your father clearly pronounced his intention to send the young boy to the North without Anne present. I hate to discourage you but Anne had certainly not been there to persuade him"

Lady Mary closed her eyes and inhaled the scent of fresh maple "It's hard to believe your father would be the one to put such cruelty in their own child."

Ambassador Chapuys placed a reassuring hand on her thin shoulders. "Your father is most certainly not a saint, my lady. He's simply a man in dire need of an legitimate, male heir."

"My fathers far from a saint. He refuses to have me attend mother's funeral! Her burial! The last chance for me to say good bye" cried Mary, she refused the let tears drops from her eyes and had promised herself to not show any more weakness to her allies but some days were deemed too hard to bear.

After a few moments of silence Mary muttered "Oh why am I such an emotional wreck?"

Chapuys tried to give an uplifting smile "Don't agonise yourself, my lady. You have many supporters within court. I could easily obtain the information for your younger brother whereabouts"

Mary felt a small tingle of confidence seep through her bones "Thank you, Chapuys. I would not have any self-control without you."

* * *

Ugh, boring chapter... sorry next chapter is going to have much more drama!

Thank you guys so much for all the amazing reviews. All of you guys have the best ideas and I love them. I have taken some story ideas from a few of you guys. I wish some of you who posted reviews would make an account so I can message you haha!

Thank you "Historyfan" for your kind reviews and "Amelie"!

Now go make an account so we can talk! :)


	9. The Queen's Banquet

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**ANNOUNCEMENT!- I want to get over this one small confusion some of you guys have been making.**

**I've gotten a review from **_**Naruhina1519**_** and a few others so I decided to make this announcement. I'm following the version of Henry from the TV Show "The Tudors". The Henry in the TV Show looks much different than in reality. The one in the TV show had black hair but accurately he had red, ginger hair. **

**Some of you guys have been asking if Arthur is going to look like Henry with ginger hair but the Henry from the TV Show has dark black hair so Arthur is going to have the same hair colour. **

**Thank you all for reading and I hope I cleared all confusion. (Btw I'm not trying to put you on the spot, Naruhina1519 but otherwise I love Game of Thrones too! You never know maybe he will turn out like Robb Stark!)**

* * *

A sudden sharp knock awoke Maria from her slumber. "We've arrived" called the unpleasant gruff voice of one of the ruthless man.

Groaning, Maria carefully handed Arthur to the wet nurse so she could feed the young infant. She stiffly stood and stumbled out of the carriage. Her legs wobbled beneath her and Maria desperately tried to regain her balance. The cold air was brutal on her cheeks the frosty wind stung her face like tiny pricks. She lifted her head and gazed at the old manor that would soon become her home.

Felltern House was small but a decent size to live in. Their few belongings had been carried inside and placed on wooden racks. The wet nurse and Arthur were given their own accommodations as Maria immediately set herself up for work. In a matter of minutes, two hearths were blazing with the warm fire to keep the house warm. Maria began to explore the house and grimaced as she mold and vines growing in some sanctions of the room. The tidiest room was made into Arthur's nursery and the wet nurse was allowed to share the area.

"Ma'am!" called the wet nurse. "You said you wanted me?"

"Betty" she said the wet nurse's name. "I am heading out to the village for some shopping. Can you manage the house hold without me?" Maria asked.

Betty nodded and reassured her that all will be well. Without a moment's hesitation, Maria walked into the cold woods. The hike to the village was lengthy but the sight of the lit up shops and homes made Maria feel much comfortable. Shopping was fruitful; she had purchased many fur blankets to survive the cold months and warm leather clothes to outstand the cold winds.

Arriving back to felltern house was heartening. Cheerful cries from little Arthur filled the main chamber and Maria smiled at the sight of Arthur's toothless grin as he babbled when Betty made swooshing noises to keep him upbeat.

_Stay_ing_ up north might not be so harsh after all_ concluded Maria as she added more wood to the fire hearth.

* * *

_**2 Months later… **_

Margaret Brandon nee Tudor paced through the prestigious Hampton corridors. Courtiers bowed in respect to the sister of the King and dowager Queen to the Portugal King but she had ignored them all. The decorations surrounding here were coloured in gold and red, the symbolic Tudor rose on display at every corner. Her brother, Henry was in a joyous mood and continued to display his happiness at court for Queen Anne was finally pregnant with his heir.

Noblemen and woman alike no longer wore dark black for mourning; they all jubilantly participated in the King's celebrations that he gave in gratitude for Anne's pregnancy. Margaret found his marriage to Anne utterly despicable.

_How dare he banish me from court and make a fool of me for marrying the man I loved and yet he does the same?!_

Margaret had a long-time friendship with Catherine, the very moment the Spanish Princess set foot on England the two had become best of friends. She had remembered how frightened the fourteen year old girl had been in a foreign country, away from her family and home. Margaret immediately became her only comfort. Arthur had been a shy, sickly teenager but he was also kind and passionate. He genuinely loved Catherine as a husband most do for his wife. Margaret could see the two were truly happy with each other, but Arthur suddenly died. She still remembered Catherine's tragedy and sorrow. Catherine had locked herself in her compartments and wept rivers for her beloved fiancé.

Margaret was the only lone figure who still draped herself in dark, mourning gowns. To her Anne was nothing more but simply a usurper. Margaret noticed how Queen Anne had quickly gained favor in court with all the noblemen. She showered many of her allies with gifts and acted as if she was a foreign princess and not a mere daughter of a diplomat. She conducted herself with high value and paced the hallways as if she was a god-like figure that all man must bow to. Margaret was the daughter of a King and yet she was treated as less importance. That was simply because she was. Anne Boleyn was currently pregnant with the King's heir and all nobles listened to her every command. Oh, how she despised that woman!

"Sister!" called her brother's familiar voice. Margaret instantly froze.

Turning, Margaret dipped into a polite curtsey "Your majesty…" she murmured.

Laughing, Henry lifted his sister to an upright, standing position. "Must you act so formal, Sister?"

Margaret frowned. The last time she talked to her brother he called her a whore for marrying Charles. She clearly remembered his yells and anger; Henry had screamed at her that he was not just simply her brother but also her sovereign. She would never forget her brother's harsh, cruel words.

"Sorry... brother" she muttered, staring right into his eyes.

Henry smile fell and wrapped his arm onto hers. "You continue to wear dark clothes meant for mourning. You should be pleased I finally have my heir in my Queen's belly."

_What of your son that Catherine has given you?_ She wanted to snap back but kept her calm, exterior self. "I'm still in mourning, brother. Catherine lies in the ground and she has been a good companion of mine for many years."

The King felt anger bubble inside of him "Her burial has been taken place two months ago. It's time to put her in the past"

Margaret didn't respond. She knew if anything were to come out of her mouth it would be fuming, vile words that would result in dreadful consequences.

Henry noticing the shift in the atmosphere and quickly changed the direction of their discussion.

"The Queen and I would like you to attend the banquet this afternoon, you have been hiding too long in your chambers and we both have grown worried for your health"

Margaret turned to face her brother, wanting to say she refuses to acknowledge his whore as Queen but simply replied "I will attempt to be present, your majesty"

"You will attend, sister" Henry said a bit more forcefully "And you better dress more suitably. You have made a disgrace of yourself recently by marrying Charles. Change your attitude before your reputation grows much poorer, you have shamed and humiliated our family for far too long."

Margaret pulled away from her brother and hissed "Your wrong, brother. If father and mother were alive to see what you have become, they would be too ashamed and disgraced to call you their son"

King Henry's face contorted in fury and his whole body shook as his temper set in "If you were not my sister, your head would've been staked in a pike long ago!" he barked.

Margaret felt frightened by his outburst and apologetically responded "You've insulted me, brother. I was angry and not thinking"

"That's the problem with you, sister" he jeered "You never think."

Margaret glared daggers at Henry "My apologies" she said curtly "I will attend the feast, your majesty. I hope you have the kindness to forgive me"

"I will" replied King Henry "And there better not be a strip of black on your attire, sister"

Margaret bit her tongue to stop herself from saying anything prudent. She quickly curtseyed before rushing off.

* * *

The banquet was decorated in festive colours. Everything from every corner was beautifully entailed and weaved in roses. Queen Anne herself wore a bright red crimson dress with white pearls sown on its cover. Her dark black hair was weaved in beautiful roses. She truly did look like a goddess and not even Margaret could deny that for it was the truth.

Margaret wore a simple yellow gown and her hair was braided in a beautiful English fashion. Margaret was not in the mood to be joyous and her sorrowed expression proved that. Her husband, Charles handed her a goblet of red wine that she thirstily drank, not caring how ill-mannered she appeared.

Charles laughed at his wife's action and swiftly took her hand to dance "I grasp you're not in the best frame of mind, would a happy dance cheer your disposition?"

Margaret grinned, replying "How very thoughtful"

The couple danced to a couple of tunes, after the both were satisfied, they sat down to continue drinking and eating the delicious meals presented. Margaret was placed beside her brother and she proved to not show how uncomfortable she felt. Charles had his full attention to Margaret and she prized his constant flatteries. All together Henry had been completely erased from her mind.

As Margaret continued chatting away with Charles, she felt a hand clutch her shoulder. Turning, she caught sight of Henry and his wife, Anne.

"How do you enjoy the banquet, Margaret?" he asked.

_Well, until you come along _she wanted to say. "Wonderful feast, Brother. I have enjoyed myself greatly"

Smirking, her brother replied "You must thank the Queen for such a beautiful event. She had arranged the whole occasion"

Margaret wanted to puke her food out in loathing after hearing that fact "Delightful…" she murmured.

Anne Boleyn who stood behind Henry approached her "We have not yet been acquainted, Margaret. I hope to be good friends in the future" said Queen Anne, grasping her hands.

Putting on a fake smile, Margaret replied "I would be enchanted to become closer with my brother's wife, but it's unfortunate that I and my husband Charles are planning to return to the country side very soon"

Charles raised his eyebrows and stared at his lady wife wondering what she was playing. Before he could interject, Margaret looked at him hard in the eyes as if daring him to say anything. Charles was wise enough to keep his mouth shut.

"Sister, postpone your journey. You don't have my permission to leave" growled King Henry.

Margaret clenched her fists and dutifully responded "If it pleases your majesty…"

Her brother, Henry frowned as he took Anne's hand and led his wife towards the middle of the courtroom for a dance. Everyone in the court room stopped their motions to watch as the Royal Couple begin the procession to dance. Margaret observed the scenery, hating every moment of her brother's newfound happiness. She quickly stood and headed towards the entrance, revulsion for her brother growing. Precipitously Charles gripped Margaret's hand

"What's gotten into you? She's the Queen and yet you bluntly disobeyed her?" snapped Charles, shaking his head in disapproval.

"Tell me Charles, Why must I obey her? She is not worthy of calling herself as Queen"

"She's pregnant with the King's son, you ought to respect her" murmured Charles Brandon.

Margaret scowled but remained mute, realising sense in her husband's words.

"Come, it's our duty to please the King" he said, pulling Margaret towards their seats.

Margaret did not complain and dutifully submitted to her husband like all wives are duty-bound to do.

* * *

Sir Thomas More was on an important mission and had spent days collecting information on Lady Mary's brother whereabouts. Lord Thomas Cromwell and his closest associates had hidden the location well, all documents were burned and the guards escorting the young child were forced into secrecy. While the whole court celebrated Queen Anne's pregnancy, Thomas More plotted his way to retrieve the data for the young boy's location. He had searched numerous files created that day and none were proved important or held any close relations to the young boy's location. All anyone knew was that the infant boy was sent up north. The utmost unfortunate part was that the North was a vast land containing hundreds of small towns and cities. It was almost impossible to figure out the infant's location.

Ambassador Chapuys had set him to this task at the will of Lady Mary but Thomas More could find nothing that could bring him close to finding the boy's whereabouts, until he had found one of the guards who were part of man accompanying the latter up North. Sir Thomas had accidently fell upon a drunkard talking of his son who was sent north for an important 'Kingly' duty. Not willing to miss this important chance, Thomas learned the home of the drunken man and tonight he was planning persuade the young guard in cracking where his mission was.

Pacing through the cobbled stones gave his steps loud echoes through the barren streets. A few prostitutes approached him but he easily brushed them off. After a prolonged walk, he had finally arrived at the small cottage home belonging to poor common people. Without knocking, Thomas strode through the door, crinkling his nose at the foul smell.

"Aye, whatya doin' in 'ere?" roared the same drunken fool who boasted in the bar. His hair was grey and long, Thomas could see tiny white lice crawling through his long locks.

"I'm here to see your son, the one who went on an important 'kingly duty' or so you said" said Sir Thomas More, stopping himself from reaching towards his scented handkerchief lying in his pocket to block out the vulgar air.

The dirty old man growled and snapped "Ya noble born, are ya? Think ya storm through some' home and go bossin' em' around?"

Without a moment's hesitation, Thomas reached towards his pocket and rattled the bag of gold coins in his pocket for the man to hear. The old man quickly became a kind host at the sound of money in his ears.

"I-I sorry, milord. Let m' get ya a comfy seat?" said the old man, his rotten teeth appearing in his wet-lipped smile.

Thomas grimaced at the idea of sitting of the old man's version of a 'comfy seat' and shook his head "No need. Get your son here is all I ask of you"

The man immediately got up and wobbled through the dusty room. "Get ya' fat arse in 'ere boy!" he yelled.

A young lad in his early twenties strode in, his brown hair was matted and he was clean shaven unlike his father. He caught sight of Thomas and fear etched his features

"Milord?" he asked.

Thomas More frowned "I'm not a lord, it's simply sir"

The boy raised his eyebrows and wiped his mud caked hands on his dirty tunic.

"I'll make this quick. You've recently gone north to escort a certain number of people to another location. I'm asking you where this location was."

The teenage boy heaved a deep breath and stuttered "I-I-I c-can't say, I ain't allowed…"

Thomas sighed and responded "I have 20 pounds on me; It will be given to you if you tell me where your assignment took you"

The young lad faltered, his knees began to wobble from terror.

"Tell 'em boy. Quit yer pussyin' and tell em!" snarled his old father, his eyes protruding at Sir Thomas's pockets.

"I will make sure no one knows of my visit here and you identity is kept secret!" said Thomas More, hoping his words did not go on death ears.

"Sir…W-We… I-I…" Gulping the boy continued "We d-d-on't know…"

Sir Thomas More frowned but he sensed it was no lie and began to walk out before the boy called out.

Thomas turned back to the boy listening to what else he had to say.

"W-we went all the way to the borders o' the barbarians" said the teenager.

It took a while for Thomas to understand that the barbarians were the Scots.

"Is that all?" he asked, impatience infesting inside of him.

The young teenager struggled to remember and suddenly his face sparked in delight.

"Tha' commander say fellter' house is where we goin' before we all wen'!"

Sir Thomas More was satisfied at his newfound material and handed the teenager the pouch of coins.

"If you keep silent of my visit, I promise that you'll be safe and no harm will come to you." Thomas simply said, turning to stare directly at the big-mouthed old man.

The young lad nodded, peering down the pouch at the golden coins. It was most likely the most amount of money he ever carried.

Without wasting any more time, Thomas headed out the door and strode through the neighborhood in a rapid pace. He after all had a very essential letter to write.

* * *

Yay! Another chapter! I'm going on vacation so I wanted to make this chapter extra longer. I hope you all enjoy this story.

Thanks to all of you guys who have reviewed. Your ideas are all spectacular and interesting.

Please continue to review, I'll try to respond to all the reviews I can!


	10. Dissolution of Monasteries

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"Lady Mary, A dispatch from Thomas More has arrived" called one of the maidservants.

Lady Mary's eyes went wide as saucers and she gazed toward Ambassador Chapuys beaming expression.

"Give me the letter" commanded Mary. Instantly the parchment was handed to her and Mary ripped open the envelope and read the contents.

"Felltern House… Never heard of it" muttered Lady Mary as she handed the letter over to Chapuys for him to scan.

"It's most definitely not one of the royal estates" replied Chapuys, furrowing his eyebrows.

"My brother's close to the border of Scotland…" Mary said, wondering how far the journey would be from Hudson.

"Thank god the Scottish and English are no longer enemies or your brother would be in immense danger." Voiced Chapuys, recalling the days when both the monarchs of Scotland and England were often in war to claim each other's lands.

"My Aunt reigns Scotland as Queen, she would never let anyone harm her home country" said Mary, convincing herself of her brother's safety. "We don't even know if the information we've been given is false. He may have gotten the wrong location or simply lied"

Ambassador Chapuys grinned at Mary's sharp wit "Thomas More is a trustworthy Englishman and a long supporter of your mother, my lady. He respects your motives."

Lady Mary didn't look very convinced; she strolled over to Chapuys side and read several of the letter's substances over his shoulder.

"Thomas says he discovered the information while interrogating a guard who was part of the crew responsible in escorting my brother north…" Mary paused her sentence, trying to distinguish what Thomas wrote as falsehood. After plenty of thorough thinking, Mary sighed and continued speaking

"I hope your right about this Thomas fellow… It will be a great disappointment if he proves to be different than expected"

Chapuys nodded "He's a good, honest man and that's saying something considering he's an Englishman"

Mary gasped and playfully hit him on the arm. "Watch your words, Ambassador… You're talking to the daughter of the King of England" she joked.

They both laughed and after their merriment died down; Chapuys proceeded to commerce

"The journey is long from here to Felltern… It's also dangerous and without the budget we would never be able to make the voyage" said Chapuys.

Biting her bottom lip in anxiety, Mary retorted "I'm not in need of some fancy, luxurious carriage and six white mares with golden reins. I can handle walking in common garbs if that's what it takes to reach my younger brother… God, I don't even know his name nor if he even has one"

Chapuys cradled his hands and tiredly answered "You will need guards to protect our latter from thieves and a skilled, experienced man to find a comfortable route to the North… It's harder and more difficult then it seems, My Lady."

Mary nodded, realising the wisdom in his words. It was a challenging journey that would take days to accomplish with loads of hard toil and effort.

"You're awfully precise, Chapuys. In addition, my father could send a chaperon to lead me back to court whenever he chooses…" Mary filled her goblet with lavender wine and took a few gulps to ease her quarreling mind.

"Especially now that his precious wife is pregnant… I bet they would all love to see my expression when my father presents his bastard son as his heir in front of my face"

Chapuys grimaced at Mary's pitiless voice and tried to sooth her "Please, My Lady, you mustn't think of such jealousies and suspicions"

Mary heaved a sigh and agreed with Chapuys "Yes, I mustn't. It's essential to focus my thoughts on my brother"

She looked out the window and eyed the white moon that shone bright in the dark night sky. Not a single star was lit in the sky, tonight the lunar moon was alone and surrounded with nothing but darkness.

* * *

Cardin Thomas Wolsey, who was often, depicted as _"Alter Rex"_ a Latin phrase for the other King sat on a leopard fur stool with diamonds studs embedded on the corners of the smooth leather that wrapped around the foot of the chair. He was the very man who built Hampton Court and paid for its intensifying price but the young King Henry had occupied himself and his court in his home. Wolsey was allowed to remain in extensive care and continued to live as the King's right hand man.

Even through all his power and influence, Wolsey soon fell out of favour due to his failure to negotiate an annulment of Henry's marriage to Catherine of Aragon. He had been stripped of all his government duties and the high class nobleman spoke harsh words behind his crooked back so Cardinal Wolsey retreated to York to oversee his clerical duties as Archbishop of York, a post he nominally held but never exercised during his many years in Government.

Thomas Wolsey was often convinced he had the perspicuous young Tudor King wrapped around his pinky finger like a golden rimmed ring but like all man he was due to fail and his reigning world had come crushing down faster than expected. Wolsey had served his King faithfully, yet Henry wanted more and so he punished all those who lost favour to gain him a righteous aura.

Wolsey's judgements were disturbed as one of Church's monks strode in his chambers.

"Your eminence… you have a visitor." Said the bald man, his head kneeling in submission and respect towards those in higher standing.

Cardinal Wolsey waved his hand in signifying to approve of sending his mysterious visitor inside.

The monk left and there were a couple shuffling noises made by moving feet before Sir Thomas Cromwell stepped inside, observing his unfamiliar surroundings.

Wolsey almost fell over in his chair, the least of people did he expect the new Chancellor, Cromwell to stroll in.

"Of all people, the last person I thought to ever see again was you, Lord Cromwell" sighed Wolsey.

"Is my company not welcome?" questioned Thomas Cromwell, sitting on the velvet cushioned arm chair across of Wolsey.

"I've never mentioned so. Your presence merely surprises me" replied Wolsey, curiosity overflowing inside of him as to why Thomas Cromwell had come.

"Don't be. We're on the same boat of feelings here, Cardinal." Said Cromwell, readjusting his body to a more relaxed and upright position on his seat.

"Never have I predicted this outcome, but I'm in dreadful need of resources to improve the Royal treasuries…" sustained Thomas, his eyes plastered directly at Wolsey's aqua blue irises.

Wolsey couldn't sustain the satisfactory in knowing that the council were struggling to control the King's assets.

"Oh? And what has caused such a horrible incident to occur?" asked Wolsey, desperately trying to hide his mirth behind his grief-stricken disguise.

Cromwell's appearance was distorted in irritation "The King spends constantly on pathetic festivities in court and our currency has gone downhill. The taxation is already excessively high for the common folks, if this continues the silent majority would not have any means to purchase their next meal"

Wolsey creased his forehead "What do you expect me to do at this matter, Cromwell? I may be a rich man but my wealth would do nothing to increase the livelihood of the common people"

At Cardinal Wolsey's words, Cromwell smirked and responded "Actually, there is something you can do…"

Wolsey leaned back in his extensive chair to ease his aching back, waiting for Lord Cromwell to continue. Thomas Cromwell reached over to his back pocket and pulled out a thin, miniature paper but the Royal Tudor Seal was enough to keep Wolsey from questioning what the peculiar parchment was for.

"The King, who is the Supreme head of the Church, has decreed the Dissolution of the Monasteries. King Henry the 8th has disbanded monasteries, priories, convents and friaries to dispose of their money and properties."

Cardinal Wolsey felt a great weight fall upon his back as Thomas Crowell spoke. How could this come to be?

Wolsey refused to let his emotions out of his mask "Tell me, Lord Cromwell… What must I do with such information?"

Thomas Cromwell smirked and said simply "Nothing… you must do nothing as the King's soldiers distort your wealth, belongings and properties."

Cardinal Wolsey stood upright, anger swelling in his bosom. "Get out, Thomas… Before I throw you out"

Lord Cromwell remained motionless; his smirk remained plastered on his face "Now that's a sight I'd love to see an old man undertake…"

Wolsey began to furiously shake at Cromwell's vile words. The Cardinal opened his mouth to speak but Cromwell beat him to it.

"I will leave your presence, your eminence. May god protect you" mocked Cromwell as he strode out of the chamber.

Cardinal Wolsey could do nothing but watch as the man left. He was no longer the "Alter Rex" instead he was a pathetic old man whose wealth was to be taken away from him due to the King's orders.

* * *

The milk brown horse beneath him swayed as Charles pushed his mare to ride faster. The King's hunt had currently ended as Henry had speared a large elk that he planned to present to tonight's feast. Every day at court was a celebration one after another. Charles Brandon often wondered what would the late King's reaction would be if he saw how lavishly his son was spending on everyday entertainment.

Charles Brandon had noticed how separate Margaret had become, she no longer kept contact with her brother and the two siblings were often cold and distant. Charles knew Margaret despised Anne because of her rise in power and usurping of Catherine of Aragon and he had thought Margaret was acting in vain and idiotically. Anne's child would be the heir and Margaret ought to remember that.

There were days when Charles thought of the young little Arthur. He wondered if the little infant was still alive or simply in good health. Honestly, Charles himself doubted the child legitimacy, he hoped to once again see the child and search for any similarities with the young boy and Henry's but no one knew of the baby's location and Charles didn't search for the information. He didn't think it as necessary at the moment.

After he had placed his horse back in to the stables, Charles strode through Hampton and caught sight of Margaret outside in the palace gardens picking flowers. Smiling, he silently tip toed from her behind and as she busied herself, Charles grasped her into a hard embrace from behind and he enjoyed hearing her frightened gasp.

"Jesus Christ, Charles! Don't ever do that again" cried Margaret, her eyes twinkling.

"Whatever her royal highness commands" obediently replied Charles, his eyes downcast in submission.

Margaret rolled her eyes and handed the banquet of flower to her husband. "I want to return to our home in the country. I can't stand living at court."

Charles Brandon sighed "You know the King won't allow us to leave Hampton."

"Then I will leave without his permission" proclaimed Margaret.

Charles laughed and took hold of her small hand "I'd love to see how that transpires"

"I will" snapped Margaret. "Tonight"

Charles Brandon was a taken back by her sudden change of emotion "Don't act rash, Margaret. Stay at Hampton and continue to gain your brothers favour."

She remained silent, tiredly closing her olive green eyes. As the two pair walked through the gardens, Margaret abruptly stopped and began to struggle breathing.

Charles stopped his tracks and whispered "Margaret… are you alright?"

"I'm fine…" breathed Margaret, swallowing a deep pant. "I just need… some rest"

Nodding, Charles carefully walked Margaret to her chambers and sat her down.

"Are you sure you're all right? Your health seems weak and dismal" asked Charles, filling a glass cup with water.

"I simply need some rest" coughed Margaret, sullenly grabbing a hold of the cup Charles was offering her.

Frowning Charles Brandon didn't seem so convinced. "I'll send for the royal physician"

"No need" she muttered, after finishing drinking her water.

She gazed at her husband's face and saw he was not thoroughly persuaded.

"Honestly, Charles… I've been quite stressed lately. The only remedy is rest and quiet"

Accepting her words, Charles smiled and kissed her on the forehead. "Then rest, your highness"

Margaret glared at her husband as he continued to laugh.

* * *

I just got back from vacation and I was so happy to find all the reviews I've been getting! Thank you guys so much. Next chapter will hopefully be posted tomorrow.

Thank you guys so much and please continue to review!


	11. The long awaited Heir

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_**8 Months later…**_

In the Palace of Placentia, Greenwich, Every single person was in a hassle. The nobility and commoners alike waited for the birth of the heir and future King of England. The Queens chambers were isolated from the rest and only a few important figures were allowed to stay in the antechamber that led to Anne's birthing room. The King impatiently stomped through the waiting room, awaiting the birth of his son. His precious Queen was been bedridden for months and the agonising labour had gone on for 3 days. He had ordered the best physicians and mid wives to attend to his wife and yet none of them could hurry up the birth of his long awaited son. All of the royal physicians and astrologers had predicted a son and the French king had already been asked to stand as his godfather.

Impatience was growing and Henry's famous Tudor temper bubbled inside of him "Bloody Hell! How long must this take?!"

Thomas Boleyn who stood nearby the King, bowed and responded "Your son is on his way, your majesty. He will soon be born, patience is vital."

Henry growled and continued to stride around his privy chamber, gnawing his fingers intolerantly.

Duke of Suffolk, Charles Brandon exhaled and poured the King another drink. He tapped his fingers on the wooden table, everyone was convinced the child was to be a male and so was he. Many skilled astrologers told the King his next heir would be his long awaited heir and son. Charles wondered if they were lying to please the King or truthfully being honest.

The Queens screeching yells could be heard and Henry perked up every time as if her pain was a great blow to him.

"Damn, child birth is a pain in the ass" hissed Henry, taking a gulp of the red wine.

"Aye, it is, Majesty" muttered Charles.

"I want my son named as Edward" said Henry, his eyes gleaming, imagining a strong and hearty son to play with. It was a dream Henry always had as he gazed at his and Catherine's still born sons.

"A fine name for an heir" said Charles Brandon, refilling his goblet with wine. "But I'd prefer Charles" he joked.

Henry grinned at his friends jest "Nah, Edward is a finer name. He will be christened after his great grandfather"

_And what if the child isn't a boy?_ Charles thought but he sustained to share the King's joy.

"Or name your son after his father's long-time friend?" teased Charles.

Laughing, Henry patted him on the back "In your dreams, Charles"

After what seemed like ages of waiting, a chamberlain burst through the room and gave the King in the privy chamber a stroppy curtsy.

"Your majesty, The Queen is currently in labour, your son is near-term" cried the man.

King Henry roared in delight and pulled Charles into a hard, ecstatic embrace. "My son is on his way, Charles. Come we must make our way to the Queen"

Nodding, Charles stood as Thomas Boleyn and his son followed Henry out. King Henry almost ran through the corridor to reach Anne's chamber.

The four men silently stood outside Anne's birthing chamber. Her squeals were quenched as Thomas Boleyn reassured Henry that Anne was currently giving a safe delivery.

Charles leaned around the glass window pane, watching the commotion ahead of him. Henry was busy pacing outside Anne's chamber, his expression filled with both excitement and joy. Thomas Boleyn, the ever single-minded, ambitious man beamed at the King and George Boleyn remained elated, taking deep breaths.

Finally, the sound of a screaming new born infant packed the air and Henry breathed a sigh of relief and content. As Charles continued to witness the ordeal, he began to wonder why the midwives were not yet carrying the King's son to present the next heir of England to his father. Finally, Charles understood why.

It seemed like the whole world remained still as one of the grim physicians sauntered out of the Queen's chamber and loudly proclaimed that the Queen had delivered a healthy daughter.

King Henry remained quiet and motionless as the old physician delivered the unwanted information. It was clear that the news of his daughter's birth came to him as a heavy blow and yet Henry looked on expressionless at Anne's chamber. On the king's right, Thomas Boleyn looked absolutely shocked and bewildered but hid his discontent behind a mere, simple smile.

Charles eyed Henry and was surprised to see a fleeting smile cross his features. Entering the chamber, Henry grinned at Anne and declared "If god can give us a healthy daughter, with his good grace he will bless us with a healthy son"

Gingerly, Henry picked up his daughter and looked over her delicate features. "A beautiful princess she will be." He muttered.

Anne who lay on the bed, extremely and utterly exhausted from her confinement, took a hold of Henry's hand and proclaimed "I want to name our daughter after your mother, Elizabeth."

The King smiled at her words and kissed Anne's brow. "A fine name for a true born princess"

As the Duke of Suffolk observed the royal couple, he decided it was time to pay a visit to the nearby brothel. He was in desperate need of a whore's company to satisfy his quarreled mind.

* * *

Margaret felt like her windpipe was being crushed by a painful, harsh weight. She couldn't breathe or talk, not a single word could escape her mouth as it was all covered in pants and gasps. The pain was excruciating beyond belief, her stomach felt like it was twisting in knots. Margaret had been bedridden for weeks before Charles departed. Their relationship had ended in a rocky, difficult situation. They both yelled at each other until their throats were harsh and raw. In an angry fit, Charles had departed with Henry to Greenwich for the birth of the King's son.

It was still deep in the night and as Margaret tried to call for help, hoping a maid would awake and would quickly arrive to save her. But Margaret could not call for help as bile filled her throat and she spat out blood in numerous amounts.

"H-h-h-eel-p" rasped Margaret, reaching towards the door knob. She tried to pry open the entrance but nothing could come ado. She gnawed on the wooden door praying for someone to come and rescue her. Yet, no one came. The servants were asleep and Charles was gone. Most likely laying with another woman who satisfied his lust.

Fury at the thought with Charles with another woman filled her bosom. Her knees began to wobble and her legs could no longer hold her weight. Margaret fell on the hard, wooden floor, writhing in pain and agony.

Flashbacks of her past passed her eyes.

Margaret's mother, Elizabeth cradling her when she had come crying after Arthur's death.

Her sister Mary who currently ruled Scotland as Queen, bidding her farewell to the young eight year old Margaret.

Henry and Arthur sword playing in the courtyard in their country side home.

Her father, Henry the 7th presenting Margaret with a white mare for her eleventh birthday

The night of her and Charles on the voyage back to England…

The luscious oak trees that overpowered her small figure as she ran past the meadows of Greenwich palace.

"_Countryside… I want to go back to the country side…" _Those were Margaret's last thoughts as her soul passed on to the other world.

Her body was not discovered till the next morning.

* * *

The September sun beamed high in the sky, the light rays radiated a warm light in the meadows by felltern. Maria sat outside the old, crumbling stoned house and knitted a warm sweater for little Arthur who was now a year old. His next birthday was in two months and Maria wanted to spoil the little boy rotten. The wet nurse, Betty was no longer needed to breast feed young Arty yet she continued to stay. Betty had taken a great liking to little Arthur and wish to continue serving the household by staying as a maid. Maria was glad for her assistance and the extra helping hands. Money was running low and no one fully supported their house hold. The King had never sent any money to take care of Arthur so Maria was left to struggle by herself. Thankfully, Catherine's old jewels had been a great profit and the money Charles Brandon had given her was a great advantage in the long run.

Little Arthur came trotting from the gardens, with Betty trailing behind. His black curls bounced as the little toddler giggled and ran as far as his chubby legs could carry him.

"Come 'ere" roared Betty, pretending to falter and lose grasp of Arthur.

Little Arthur squealed in joy as he stomped in a muddy puddle, his clean clothes staining in dark brown dirt.

Displeased, Maria muttered "I just washed those clothes".

Arthur looked towards her with such innocence; Maria couldn't help but not feel angry. Carefully, she picked up the young boy, keeping him at a good distance away from her so he would not get her filthy but her efforts proved foolhardy as Arthur reached towards Maria's face and smeared his muddy gasped onto her cheeks.

Maria gasped at Arthur's lurid action and glared at Betty who tried desperately not to break into humorous laughter.

"Very funny…" drawled Maria as Betty sniggered behind her hands.

Taking young Arty inside, she had prepared a small warm bath for little Arthur. Maria washed away every drop of mud on Arthur's small body and fed him peas and carrots mush for dinner.

Night fall fell and Maria had Betty take Arthur back to his nursery for nap time. Maria kissed little Arthur good night and watched as Betty cautiously carried the weary young boy to bed.

Maria sat by the fire hearth, drinking hot cider to sooth her aching head from the stress and weariness of everyday life. Money was running low and there were not enough supplies left to support a young babe at Arthur's age. The cook could no longer be afforded, it was only Betty and Maria left in the household. Maria found comfort at night where everything was still and quiet, not a single noise could be heard except for the crackling sound of the warm red fire.

Closing her eyes in exhaustion, Maria began to pray for god's good graces to aid her on this difficult piece journey in her life. As she prayed, A sharp knock came from the entry way. Maria flinched and hesitantly stood upright.

"_Who comes to visit in the middle of night? A beggar?" _wondered Maria.

Walking very slowly to the door, Maria gazed out the nearby window and saw a man clad in dark black clothes. She could not see his face but due to his well-dressed attire, Maria could tell the man was far from a mere beggar.

Cautiously, Maria opened the door and asked the man "Who are you, sir? What brings you here?"

The man raised his face and Maria observed his features. The man had greying hair with a small beard that began to recently grow from his chin. His eyes seemed warm and kind that had Maria doubting he came to do harm.

"The name's Thomas More, I have come here in private. Do you by any chance harbor a young boy around his early stages in life?"

Stunned by his question, Maria contemplated whether she should tell the truth or not "Why ask such an absurd question?" she inquired.

The man who called himself Thomas More smiled "By your tone, I'm taking it as a yes."

Maria was thoroughly astounded by his prudence before she could tell him to leave, Thomas More said

"I come here in peace, Ma'am. I'm an old friend of the late Queen, Catherine of Aragon."

Hearing those words, Maria immediately led him inside. "Any friend of Catherine is welcome in this household, Sir Thomas"

"Thank you for your hospitality" he returned, taking off his black cloak and sitting his self by the fire to warm his body after days of travel.

"I'm here to enquire of Catherine's bastard son…" said Thomas.

"I'm afraid Arthur is currently asleep" responded Maria.

Thomas More raised his eyebrows at the boy's name. It was a fine name for a young lad and hearing the boys forename made his desperation to see the child grow to an intensifying amount.

"I hate to be farsighted but it's for the better that I examine … Arthur" Thomas More said.

Maria sulked and with regret answered "That would not be wise, Sir. He's but a mere child and sleep is of much importance at his age"

"I shall not wake the child, I merely had come to see if the child is truly the legitimate son of Catherine and Henry."

Maria considered what the man said and continued to decline his request but after a few arguments, she decided to allow his intent. "I will escort you to the nursery, but please sir, keep silent I do not want a commotion"

Thomas More laughed and countered back "I too have a young daughter of my own; her wailings are the death upon my ears"

Grinning at his jape, Maria led the man through the dusty corridors towards Arthur's tiny nursery. In a silent motion, she opened the creaky door way and directed Thomas More inside.

The man entered and hungrily eyed the crib that lay on the far corner of the room. Oh, how he waited for this day, for months he carefully planned his expedition. His thirst to set eyes upon Catherine's and Henry's child was strong beyond redemption.

Thomas tip toed to the cribs edge and gazed down at the sleeping boy. The baby boy had dark black curls flowing from his skull in a messy bunch due to his constant moving in his sleep. Arthur's features were perfectly similar to those of King Henry's, it was perfectly clear that Arthur was the King's son.

"By mighty god… he's most certainly the King's own son!" muttered Thomas, stunned by the strong resemblance.

"Of course he is! Catherine would never commit adultery" whispered Maria, not wanting to stir Arthur.

She had then led Sir Thomas More out of the nursery where the young child slept and into the dark, cold corridors.

"Have you been sent by the King?" Maria asked curiously.

His grim expression told her she was mistaken. "No, I have come on my own accord. I had once been the King's chancellor but resigned from office recently" he responded.

Maria frowned, speculating why he would have come "Then tell me, Sir, why have you come?"

Thomas More sighed and proclaimed "I wanted to meet the son of the alleged son of Catherine and Henry and I am pleased to find not an bastard but the true born son of the King"

Dismayed by his words, she inquired "What do you plan to do with the information, Sir Thomas? The King has publically declared Arthur as not his son and last I heard, Queen Anne was with child"

Sir Thomas smiled at her words, that surprised Maria even more "King Henry had made a grave mistake announcing his only son a bastard and further more, Queen Anne had given the King a daughter three weeks ago"

Maria wondered if she should feel happy of the newfound news or simply frightened that the man might plan to take Arthur away.

"The Queen could nether the less still produce an male heir." murmured Maria.

"No one can tell of the future, Ma'am. The Queen has many enemies and the dissolution of Monasteries has created an uproar with the public, she is known throughout the Christendom as the King's whore" answered Thomas More.

Maria breathed a sigh of discontent and shook her head "Poor woman..."

"Arthur is the key source to restore Catholicism as the true faith once more and regain the papal supremacy" he declared, his eyes shining with anticipating joy.

Scowling, Maria snapped "You will not use Arthur as your object for your personal gain, he is but a mere babe who does not yet know of the cruelties of the outside world"

Ataken back by her sudden anger, Thomas calmly responded "I shall do no harm to Arthur. I plainly hope that the King would announce Arthur as his heir and return to the old period of time"

"I apologise for my outbust... If you are able to persuade the King to change his mind on Arthur's legitimacy, then I would be very thankful towards you"

"I will try my best to influence the King to visit his son, Arthur." replied Sir Thomas.

"May god bless you..." she prayed, happiness filling her bosom

"I must return to the south, Until I return...Keep Arthur safe" the man called Thomas More beared farewell to Maria and disappeared into the dark night.

As Maria locked the door, she began to think of the danger Arthur might soon be facing and prayed throughout the whole night for his safety.

* * *

First of all **Rip Margaret. **I'm guessing most of you might've guessed after the last chapter.

Anyways, I wanted to fast forward to 8 months because I was running out of plot ideas and wanted Anne to hurry up with her birth. I'm sorry that I did not give her an son like some of you guys have requested (Kittenallie) but I wanted to stick with the original plot line with only Elizabeth born.

So tell me, what do you think Thomas would do? Would he be able to persuade the King to finally meet Arthur or will everything go downhill?

Thank you, for all the lovely reviews!


	12. High Treason

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* * *

Hampton Court continued to present itself as festive as it had been. Bright, joyful colours decorated every corner to celebrate the birth of Queen Anne's daughter Elizabeth. It came as an complete shock to many at the birth of a girl due to many expecting the Queen to sire a son.

Thomas did not wait a single hesitation hurrying towards the King's privy chamber. His will and urgency to tell King Henry of his son was growing to an intense amount.

As Thomas strode through the hallways, maneuvering around the many courtiers blocking his direction. He was approaching close until the wretched Cromwell appeared and blocked his path.

"Sir Thomas" greeted Cromwell, scanning Sir Thomas's dark black attire.

"Good Morrow, Lord Cromwell" murmured Thomas, too much in a rush to care what Cromwell needed. As he continued to walk towards the King's privy chamber, Cromwell once again blockaded his path.

Getting quite irritated by his action, More snapped "What is it you want, Lord Chancellor?"

Lord Cromwell smirked and replied "Whatever the King wants is my hearts desire"

More rolled his eyes at his poetic loyalty "Then do what the King desires and get out of my way!"

"That is exactly what I'm doing, Sir Thomas" Cromwell simply responded.

Thomas More raised his eyebrows in confusion, wondering if he might have misheard "What!?"

"You have not yet taken the oath... I am here to inquire of your disobedience towards the King's wishes."

Sighing, More replied "I have no interest to converse with you on this topic"

Cromwell was the man responsible for the dissolution of monasteries, More despised and loathed the man for sacking the Catholic Church and crushing the Catholic religion. He was responsible for reformation of the protestant Church, something that Thomas regarded as heresy.

"Sir Thomas, are you implying to refuse signing to oath?" questioned Cromwell.

Cromwell was regarding of the oath that declared the King the Supreme Head of the English Church, pursuant to Parliament's Act of Supremacy of 1534. Thomas More tried to limit the oath "as far as the law of Christ allows."

"I decline renouncing all claims of jurisdiction of the Church, therefore I shall not sign the oath" claimed Thomas, keeping sure to not say he was going against the Sovereign as head of the English Church.

Cromwell sighed and responded "Then you are to be arrested for high treason against the King and all of England! You shall to be tried and if found guilty, be send to the scaffold, drawn and quartered"

Thomas More did not know if he was to be frightened or merely stunned. He knew this was coming as long as he remained against taking the Oath. His faith was powerful beyond redemption, not even the King could change his philosophy.

"I demand to see the King!" Thomas calmly said, hoping Thomas would not hear the small quiver in his voice.

"Unfortunately for you, The King has important matters to attend. He's much to busy to 'converse' with a traitor" Smirking in victory, Cromwell motioned for a few guards to approach Thomas More.

Thomas silently and without protest, followed the guards out. His hatred for Cromwell grew rapidly as he was led away. He would not see the lurid man victorious if Thomas signed the oath, no he would continue to stay faithful to the true religion forever and always.

* * *

"Lady Mary… I have horrible news, we must speak alone" whispered Chapuys into Mary's ear so none of the maids or servants could hear.

Nodding, Mary and the Ambassador hurried to a private, isolated chamber in Hudson house.

"Your excellency… what is the dire news you bare?" enquired Mary, slightly afraid.

Ambassador Chapuys sorrowful gaze pierced a heart-wrenching twist inside of Mary's womb.

"I'm afraid to tell you of Thomas More's recent arrest for refusing to take the oath"

Lady Mary gasped, pity arising in her chest for the poor man "God bless him, he's a true Catholic saint. An honourable and holy man…"

Chapuys sighed and muttered "John Fisher has also been arrested on the same charges… our allies are beginning to diminish"

"What must we do?" she questioned.

Chapuys shook his head, responding "We must do nothing! Any motives used to support the two could be taken against us. Thomas and John are in god's hands now"

Mary felt pity for the two holy man but the Ambassador was accurate, if she had been discovered sending help or allying with the two man then she could find herself in the same position. Mary did not want to spend another night in the cold London towers.

"Has Sir Thomas More confessed to the King or his councilman on the matter of locating my brother?" asked Mary.

Chapuys once again shook his head "By the looks of it, Sir Thomas's arrest was only regarding him refusing to sign the oath"

Mary breathed a sigh of relief and collapsed on the red cushioned arm chair.

"We must pray he continues to stay silent" she murmured.

"It is of utter importance he doesn't breath a word or we both might be facing prosecution, your father has shown enough capacity by imprisoning his own daughter" scowled Chapuys, the thought of King Henry's ruthless actions had his gut twist in fury.

Mary hated listening to anyone discussing her father, his betrayal was a hard blow for her. She quickly began to change the direction of the conversation.

"When do John Fisher and Thomas More stand for trial?"

"Tomorrow morrow, if found guilty… they are to die a traitors death" replied Chapuys, pouring himself and Mary a goblet of wine.

Mary gasped in horror, placing her small hand against her mouth. To die a traitors death was an horrific execution. An man would be drawn of his body parts, quartered and if he manages to survive the dreadful torture, they would be executed by beheading.

"Jesus Christ… no… My father, the King would not go so far!" she voiced, grabbing the goblet Chapuys was offering her and drained the contents of the bitter wine.

Frowning, Chapuys responded "We must pray he does not, their deaths would be a harsh blow to the Pope and all the Catholics in Europe."

Mary rubbed her aching head, concentrating around her temple. After she had not spoken, Chapuys continued relaying another circumstance that had taken place.

"I've heard… Cardinal Wolsey has recently committed suicide during his transportation to the tower when he had been charged with treason"

Mary raised her head, her mind in a quarrel "Wolsey was a lurid man with bad judgements, he had signed my mothers marriage as infertile and sinful. I do not take any pity on that vile man"

Chapuys agreed with Mary, contemplating if he should break the news of her Aunt Margaret's recent death. He did not want to trigger an depression for the young girl who had already suffered enough so the Ambassador kept his mouth zipped shut.

"Also an royal envoy had arrived a fortnight ago, The King commands you back to court" proclaimed Chapuys, watching Mary's stunned and curious expression carefully.

"Has he really?" she whispered, not believing what her ears had heard.

"Yes, my Lady. Queen Anne has given birth…" Chapuys paused, watching as Mary's face turned pale.

"I-is it a male? I've heard many astrologers claimed the child would be a son" she muttered, fearful of the Boleyn domination.

"The harlot has given the King a daughter… God's punishment for her heinous sins against the Catholic church" he beamed, delighted that the King had been proved wrong marrying Anne Boleyn.

Mary felt so relieved hearing those words, finally there was some light in her dark, blinded life. But she also felt great overwhelming sorrow for the young girl who had been placed under such crucial circumstances. By god, the young infant was but a child just like her brother. The two were already enemies, yet not even met and much too young to understand the trivaries of their different birth mothers.

"The King has also made you part of the Princess's house hold, you are to serve her under Queen Anne's command." Chapuys scowled, Anger filled him at the thought of the daughter whose both parents were of royal blood serving the harlots offspring. It was absolutely unbecoming.

Surprisingly, Mary did not show much emotion or discomfort at that phrase.

"I must pack my belongings then…" she whispered, standing upright.

Chapuys took a deep breath and followed Lady Mary out.

* * *

Grief was all Charles could feel.

Grief, sorrow, pity, sadness. All these emotions combined were an painful, excruciating stab to his chest. His wife, Margaret died alone, in pain while he mounted some whore with big tits in a brothel.

For the first time, he despised his playboy ways. The very thought of sleeping with another woman made him blind with fury.

Charles gazed at Margarets stiff, pale body that lay in beautiful crochet coffin. Her luscious brown hair were braided in red roses like a true Tudor princess. She was beautiful even at death, the red crimson dress shone throughout the dark, burial chamber. A few candles lit the dark room and the reflection bounced on her appearance creating her the only bright figure in the pitiful chamber.

"I'm sorry… I'm sorry…" he murmured over and over again, hoping somewhere, anywhere she heard his pleas and managed from the bottom of her heart to forgive his god forsaken soul.

Charles stayed in the dark chamber, crying his eyes out until no tears would fall from his eyes. He did not feel his legs pain him from standing during the lengthy hours. Charles merely stood and stood, continuing to apologize to the dead corpse.

He did not even realize he blacked out from the lack of air.

* * *

Thanks for reading and more updates coming soon! My computer broke recently so I couldn't post the chapter until now.

Thanks for the amazing reviews, all of you guys bring a smile upon my face.

Unfortunately, there are some anonymous reviewers who are harassing other reviewers. I don't approve of this and your review would either be deleted or reported.

Thanks again :*


	13. Mary returns

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All her belongings had been carefully folded and cramped into large luggages. Mary wore a dark black gown signifying herself in mourning. Even though her mother had died two months ago she continued to wear black garmets.

Chapuys stood behind his lady, clearing his throat in preparance to begin a conversation.

"Do you think it wise to wear an mourning gown in front of his majesty?" he inquired.

"My father excepts a dutiful daughter and so I shall be… to my mother who has recently died and also to him by respecting his wishes in becoming apart of Elizabeth's household." Mary murmured, grasping Chapuys arm as he led her towards the carriage.

As the footman caught sight of the nobility, he immediately opened the carriage door and ushered the two inside.

Mary sat comfortably on the pillowed seat and Chapuys relaxed his straining back on the wall of their carriage ride.

"We are destined to arrive at Hampton in two nights" The ambassador claimed.

Mary took a deep breath and gazed out the carriage window, eyeing the green pastures that the carriage passed.

Chapuys noticed a shift in the atmosphere and asked "What ever is the matter?"

She sighed "I'm frightened of what is to happen. I don't believe I have the will power to face the court after all that had transpired"

Mary thought of all the humiliations she had been forced to take by her father. She was no longer titled a princess but a mere, simple lady. She had the blood of two powerful monarchs and yet Mary was a bastard. By law she was next in line to the throne but the daughter of merchant descendants was to take her place.

It was all unfair. Completely and utterly unfair.

Chapuys put on a comforting smile and replied "There is nothing to be frightened of, My lady. You mustn't waver from your beliefs."

"And I will not" Mary said "I will fight with every fibre of my body to not appear weak. I refuse to see that harlot satisfied."

Chapuys nodded, agreeing with her words "Indeed, you must remain strong."

She beamed and began to feel much more confident then earlier.

**_2 days later…_**

_I'm the granddaughter of Isabella of Castille. My blood runs with Christendom's most powerful monarchs… I shall never let my weakness show in front of my enemies… I must be strong… strong…_

Mary repeated those thoughts in her head over and over until she began to feel confidence grow. But the very moment she stepped out of the carriage and gazed at the red wall of Hampton she once again felt the nervous emotion overshadow her mind.

Her whole body began to shake but the man who came to greet her, mistook her shaking from the cold air.

"My lady" the courtier bowed "I'm here to welcome you back to Hampton"

Mary nodded in acknowledement, stretching her aching bones from the long journey.

Ambassador Chapuys crookedly stood upright, grabbing Mary's arm to direct her towards her chambers.

She was glad to find her chamber luxuriously decorated and located far from the gossips of court. Mary felt like a tiny pea in her vast room, her room in Hudson was much smaller.

A young woman came to greet Mary and bowed at her prescense.

"My names Catherine Bury, I'm to be your new lady-in-waiting" the dirty blonde muttered.

Mary smiled as she learned the woman's name and thanked the lady for her service.

She had almost forgotten Chapuys continued to remain in her privy chamber, Mary turned towards him and asked

"When am I to see my father?"

Chapuys looked thoughtful "His majesty has invited us to dine in tonights feast"

Mary furrowed her eyebrows "In private?" she inquired.

The ambassador shook her head and responded "No, it's to be a public event"

"Pleasant…" Mary murmured, hating her father and his whore wife by the minute.

Chapuys heaved a deep breath but before he could say anything in reassurance, an male chamberlain entered and rudely interrupted the two.

"The King seeks your audience, your excellency" he said, gazing right towards Chapuys.

The ambassador frowned and dismissed the servant.

"If you excuse me, Lady Mary. I will see you at the feast" voiced Chapuys, despising himself that he hadn't yet mentioned the Mary about her Aunt's death. She had yet to know and he foolishly kept that information hidden.

Mary understood the importance of being an Ambassador and its duties so without further ado, Chapuys swung the door open and hurriedly left.

The spanish ambassador grew weary as he wondered what the King wished of him, Chapuys neared the King's privy chamber and walked inside. King Henry like usual was surrounded by Charles Brandon and a few other campanions. Surprisingly, Anne Boleyn was not present.

"Your majesty" Chapuys stiffly bowed.

Henry turned toward him and smirked "Your excellency… it's been a while since I've last saw you. I've heard you've spent recent company with the Lady Mary"

Ambassador Chapuys responded "Yes, Your majesty I have."

"I'd prefer you to remain at court" said King Henry.

"Whatever your majesty commands…" replied Chapuys taking the moment to gaze around the chamber. Charles Brandon dressed in an dark black attire and wore a somber expression on his face. It was clear that the death of his wife was a hard blow to him.

"I have a question for you but we must speak in private" Henry gazed at the man who sat around him on the long table, without needing to be told twice the councilman disappeared out the door. Chapuys noted that Charles left more quicker then the others, most likely due to his grief and mourning.

After they had all left, Henry cleared his throat "My daughter is to be apart of the Princess Elizabeth household"

"The Lady Mary is aware of that, your majesty" the ambassador responded.

"Good, there is more… I've received many proposals to the Lady Mary including to the dauphin of France"

Chapuys almost chocked on his own tongue, their proposal had long ago being exterminated but Chapuy's still remembered how the Lady Mary had pushed the young prince after he refused to kiss her. It was a joyful sight to the Spanish who greatly despised the French.

"But when I asked King Francis for his son to take Elizabeth's hand in marriage, the man bluntly refused… tell me why is that?" Henry inquired, his expression calm but his eyes shining in fury.

"Lady Mary is of closer age to the dauphin…" Chapuys responded, praying those words were enough to cool down the soon-to-be-coming Tudor temper.

"Unfortunately, that is not what the King said… he claimed Elizabeth was an bastard and a descendant of mere commoners" Henry fumed, his expression contorted in anger.

Chapuys felt like hot oil was being spilled down his ears, the ambassador did not know how to respond back except for apologize.

"I don't need your apologizes, Ambassador!" King Henry snapped "But I require your assistance in keeping watch of Mary… she's a troubled, stubborn girl who may plan something extraordinary reckless against the crown and me! I simply ask is for you to keep my daughter on close watch. Any suspicious behaviour will immediately be reported to me"

Chapuys head was spinning with questions. The King had just requested of him to spy on the Lady Mary! It was absolutely berserk for the Ambassador to do such a sinful, trival task. He knew that if Chapuys openly disregarded the King, he would officially be branded an supporter of the papal regime and openly disobey the King.

The Spanish Ambassador dipped his head in obedience and responded "Yes, your majesty. I will keep an open eye on your daughter"

Henry smirked and gently patted him on the cheek "Good! You are dismissed"

Chapuys bowed and hurried out of the chamber. He had to warn the Lady Mary but also make sure that she would not bluntly keep contact with any of her Catholic supporters or she would find herself in great danger.

* * *

Mary observed her appearance in the large mirror before her. She wore a black and red dress, symbolic to the Tudor colours and her lady servant, Catherine, had combed her hair in an tight bun. Taking a deep breath, Mary played her most calm expression but her exterior quickly fell as the bundle of butterflies once again danced in her belly.

Mary was beyond nervous. How must she act when she is reunited with her father? Cry and embrace the man who caused her such grief?

The worst of all, she did not want to see the smug, victorious Queen Anne or her harlot daughter.

Mary smoothed the crinkles on her silk dress, wondering what took Chapuys so long.

She continued to gaze at her appearance until someone finally had arrived to escort her to the feast.

Mary turned at the stranger and beamed as she caught sight of Eustace Chapuys.

"Thank the lord, you've arrived. I would not be able to survive this ordeal without you" she cried.

The ambassador looked quire grim but Mary's relief to have Chapuys at her side had her forget of his odd demeanor.

"I will be escorting you to the feast" Chapuys smiled, offering his arm to Mary.

Mary felt frightened and a tad bit sick, but she nether the less grasped his arm.

As the two companions paced through the corridors, Mary held her head high like a true Princess would behave. None had noticed her prescence in the hallways until they both were close to the entryway of the court room. Immediately all the courtiers were bowing and muttering her title

"Lady Mary"

Mary forced a smile on her face as she entered the enormous and familiar court room. Taking deep breaths, she reminded herself who she was, an daughter of the King of England. Mary gazed up towards the throne and stared straight into her fathers brown eyes, her eyes. Beside him, his whore wife sat but Mary refused the recognize her.

"Your majesty" she curtisesed.

"Welcome back to court, Mary. It has been a long time since I last saw you, you've grown into a fine, young lady" her father beamed but all Mary felt was numb from her toes to her neck.

"I thank you, father." responded Mary, her eyes wandering at her father's unshaved beard.

She could feel the leering eyes of Anne Boleyn inspecting her but she continued to not pay attention to the King's whore. If that witch truly expected her to bow at her feet, she was very, very mistaken.

"I hope you find your accommodations well?" the King questioned.

Mary nodded and once again thanked her father for her marvellous chambers at court, keeping note to appear joyful and happy.

Henry continued "Come sit, Mary. It's time for the feast"

She beamed and walked toward the empty chair next to her father seat, bluntly ignoring Anne who sat a couple feet away. Thankfully, Her father did not note the rudeness and continued drinking liquor.

The feast went smoothly and not a single soul bothered her. After a half an hour, Mary became comfortable and cheerfully chatted with one of the Queen's lady in waiting. She was also invited to dance by many courtiers and accepted each and every one of them.

Mary once again felt confident and remained beaming at every single person she cast eyes upon.

After Mary had observed every figure in the large room, she began to wonder where her father's most trusted companion, Charles Brandon had gone. She had heard from Chapuys that he was the last man her mother had conversed with and he most likely had seen her brother. Mary was very interested in having a lengthy conversation with the man.

"Your majesty…" murmured Mary, turning a crimson red as Henry pried his attentions to his daughter.

"Thank you for arranging this marvelous banquet and for also inviting me back to court!" Mary beamed, showering flatteries to her father so he would continue to believe Mary was an obedient, dutiful daughter.

Her father grinned and responded "It's a pleasure to have you back, daughter."

Mary nodded, leaving an awkward silence between the two. After a moment of quiet, Mary cleared her throat and asked "Father, I do not meant to pry but I've been wondering why Charles Brandon has yet to appear?"

Henry's face turned sullen and Anne stiffened as the King slammed his goblet on the table.

The noise was loud but not loud enough to get the attention of the whole court.

Immediately regretting her word, Mary apologized.

Henry shook his head and muttered "I'm not angry, Mary. But I'm surprised you haven't heard about your Aunt Margaret demise"

Mary furrowed her eye brows and replied "No I have not…" suddenly panic overcame her and she enquired "Is she well?"

Her father sighed "Your Aunt's dead, Mary."

Mary was frozen with shock. Her Aunt Margaret, another important family figure was dead.

"God bless her soul…" Mary breathed, her body grew warm and she began to feel out of place. A nagging emotion begged her to leave and she followed her instinct.

"Apologies, your majesty… I do not feel well…" without wasting anymore time, Mary hurried out of the chamber. The noble men and woman alike watched her leave. She did not let her emotion fall from her facade. Until the second she stepped inside her private chamber and Mary weeped an rainstorm.

* * *

King Henry watched his daughter's departure feeling sick to the gut. She must be in total denial to behave so suddenly. Guilt stabbed him in the heart but like always, he pushed the weak feelings away and drank another goblet of wine to fuse his quarrelling thoughts.

His country despised Anne, referring to the woman as a Witch who had seduced the King. All of Christendom called his wife the King's concubine and his daughter, Elizabeth a bastard. But it no longer was once again pregnant and this time, Henry was convinced it would be his long awaited son and heir! By god, he deserved a male heir and yet he had been deprived of one for so long. Why of all King's was he so cursed?

There were days when he would lie in his large canopy bed and think of the boy Catherine had birthed. Henry doubted the child was his but there were days when he might've believed the boy was his own flesh and blood.

But it was impossible! Catherine was an old, aging woman who had been barren for years. There was no way she would be able to carry a child full-term. During those sleepless night's, Henry would find himself drinking heavy amounts of liquor until he felt the wooziness to pass out.

Anne who sat delicately and straight-spines beside her husband smirked at Mary's fleeing figure. The girl was a nuicanse and could one day be the subject to her ruin! Paranoia continued to build inside Anne every day as she would play with her young and most beautiful daughter. Mary was an most likeable candidate for the English throne and Queen Anne was frightened of Mary's spanish influence.

By god, that Spanish offspring could be the doom of her! Anne tried to reassure her paranoia by reminding herself the girl was proclaimed illegitimate and yet Anne still worried.

Elizabeth was nothing but a mere, fragile babe and Mary could easily overpower her own daughter's claim to the throne. Mary's Spanish allies would most likely back up her claim and Anne had no powerful supporters. She had tried to ally with the French but they had bluntly and cruelly refused.

But Anne was currently with child and this infant would most definitely be the King's son. She could feel it in her bones. Her son will have the strength of a thousand man and the wisdom of an Physician! Queen Anne took a gulp of the sweet goat milk that would help her boy grow strong while silently celebrating with herself.

Her son would be King and if not him, then her only hope would be Elizabeth. Anne Boleyn knew deep in her heart that her daughter was meant for greatness.

If only Elizabeth was a boy. A son.

* * *

First of all, I want to apologize for the very, very late chapter. I have no good excuse except for my laziness.

Also, I have a few grammar errors in this chapter so I apologize for that also if you happen to spot one or a couple.

Thanks for all the reviews! It's great to hear all of your insights and idea.

You guys are awesome. :)


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